


No Kiss, Priss?

by skinsuit



Series: Elias can get it. [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Breathplay, Canon Typical Violence, Cis Elias Bouchard, Cis OFC, Creeper John Amherst, Cunnilingus, Elias is NOT worth it, Elias is a bastard, Elias is pansexual, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fellatio, Frottage, Jonah Magnus is pansexual, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Penis In Vagina Sex, Priscilla is an avatar fucker, Priscilla is just as bad, Priss does all the Mikes, Rating will go up, Ride or die is NOT a good idea when you are dealing with ELIAS, Rope Bondage, Stoner Elias Bouchard, TW: drug use, Toxic Relationship, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Abuse, Voyeurism, dub-con, evil doers evil-ing, mastubation, quick cabin pressure reference, sex as a battle, tailsker theft, the talisker, toxic parenting, tw: homophobic slurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 51,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinsuit/pseuds/skinsuit
Summary: Priscilla H. Abbott met Elias Bouchard  in 1996 shortly after he became head of the Magnus institute. He led her into the shadow world and she went willingly as his sometime mistress and loyal acolyte. Unfortunately the things she likes to sleep with aren't always the safest and the man she thought would take care of her...just will watch her die at that hands of another.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/OFC, Elias Bouchard/OMC/Peter Lukas (implied), Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Jonah Mangus/OCs, Micheal | The distortion/OFC, Mikaele Salesa/OFC, Peter Lukas/OFC/Elias Bouchard
Series: Elias can get it. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795873
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	1. Piper Murder aftermath/First meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HissHex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HissHex/gifts).



> this contains chapter contains breatheplay, if you don't like it then please do not read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork by Dead.shark.
> 
> Note: This portion of the fanfic is from Elias’s POV and the rest is from Priss’s but it works?

Elias let the pipe drop from his aching hand and looked at the ruined skull of Jurgen Leitner. He had to admit, he was quite tired from this dirty exercise. He couldn’t go back into the building and he couldn’t go back to his flat. He was covered with blood and little bits of brain… It would take some effort to recover. He made his way out to a modest but well-maintained bungalow with a yard. It was dusk when he got there. Priscilla was standing there on the porch, smoking a cigarette, when he got out of the car. She raised an eyebrow, stubbed out her cigarette, and walked over.  
“It’s been a while,” she said.  
“Yes,” he admitted.  
“You didn’t need me for a bit. It’s alright. I’ve been busy too.”  
She was taller than him and lean, with long dark hair up in a ponytail, sharp high cheekbones, and cold almond-shaped eyes.  
He wobbled, his entire body aching. She put her hands on his shoulders.  
“Thank you,” He said carefully. He knew she could break his neck easily, especially in this state. She’d never hurt him.  
“Come on, dear,” She said, “I’ll draw you a bath.”  
He smiled as they kissed and she licked the blood from her lips. She took his hand and led him into her house. He felt like a child in her hands, letting her undress and massage his aching body, she was a nurse after all. She had a free-standing claw foot tub, it was huge and the water was steaming. She had to pour him into it. She got him a cigarette and a glass of wine, it wasn’t his brand but well, nothing is perfect. He knew she’d get every stain out his clothing. He put his head back and let himself feel the hot water soothe him as the smoke filled him and he sipped on the wine... Oh, she had stronger stuff, but Priss knew he didn’t want that right now. She came back to the bathroom and got on her knees in front of the tub.  
“I’ve gotten myself into a fine mess,” He admitted (the wine was probably to blame).  
She hummed in thought as she began to shampoo his hair. “Well I’m sure it’s important or you wouldn’t have done it.”  
“Yes,” he said.  
Peter sometimes did this and he did so enjoy the feeling of deft fingers massaging his scalp. He sometimes wondered if he should be more scared, she had her second husband in the backyard after all, along with a young nephew and a ‘mistake’ she’d had from coupling with another one of his kind. He looked in her head, he smiled, Priss was his, always had been. He could trust her as much as he could trust his own hands, despite what she has said about Simon and that Spiral thing she’d fucked (it gifted her with a fetus that could not survive outside the womb). She was gently washing his face with a warm towel, dabbing all the blood off. The water was pink with blood, and her hands were warm and thorough as she washed him clean, and massaged every tense knot out of his muscles. He watched her as he took another long drag on the cigarette. She looked back at him, reached down between his legs and took his penis in her skilled hands; he quickly found himself hardening under her persistent grip.  
~~~1996~~~~~  
Elias Bouchard woke up in the hospital. He was not Elias anymore. It had worked, though the original Elias had put up quite a fight and James Wright was not a young man. He looked up across the room and into the face of a tall, thin dark haired nurse.  
“So you’ve finally woken up.” She said.  
“Ah…. “ He looks around. “Yes… I have….”  
“You have lovely eyes,” She said. “Nice to see them open.”  
“Thank you.” He remarked.  
“Terrible thing that happened, your boss attacking you like that? I saw what you looked like when they brought you in Mr….” She looked at his chart.  
“Call me …Elias,” He said, tasting the name.  
She smiled, it was a sharp smile.  
“You are so lucky you survived, it was self defence, I expect,” She said, that sharp smile still gracing her face.  
He decided at that point not to trust her. “I am lucky I survived. Nurse…” He looked at her name tag. “Abbott.”  
“Call me Priscilla, luv.” She said.  
He looked at her, really looked into her and he saw that she was eight years his junior (in this body), and used to have an abusive husband who she married far too young, then one night she’d slipped something from the med cart in his beer, he seized and died. He decided he could use that if she attempted to get more information out of him.  
~~~2017~~~  
They were now laying on her bed, both naked, he was clean again and feeling very relaxed. He looked at her: she wasn’t bad for her age, she had a runner’s body but her arse was round, full and bouncy still, her breasts weren’t bad either on the small side but the nipples were a bit big and she had a small benign mole on underside of the left one, he liked to lick it sometimes. They kissed again.  
“I take it Peter is on the Tundra?” She asked.  
“Yes, unfortunately he won’t be back for another four months,” He mused.  
“Oh it’d be nice to see him,” She said absentmindedly as her hands trailed down his stomach and to his hips.  
They shared her a few times, Peter, of course, had been so embarrassed but she’d found a way to make him comfortable. Mainly it was the way she looked at them with such awe and arousal, almost as sweet as fear.  
“Would you like me to suck you off?” She asked looking up at him.  
He smiled and nodded. She’d had all kinds in that mouth of hers, and she knew exactly what to do. Her tongue flicked at the head of his cock and he groaned as he began to get hard again in her hot inviting mouth.  
~~~~~1996~~~~~~~  
She had been flirting with him for days, he knew it was half in earnest, half to try and weasel information out of him. One night he snuck out the fire escape to have a cigarette and she was there also smoking.  
“Hello dear,” She said that sharp smile.  
“Hello Nurse Abbott,” He replied coolly.  
“Awful you had to fight your boss after he promoted you, I’m sure you didn’t mean to kill him,” She said.  
Oh. That was her game. He looked her squarely in the face, reached over, grabbed her neck and pinned her to the wall.  
“I did,” He hissed looking deep into her, dropping the knowledge and image of exactly what happened into her mind.  
Her eyes widened and she gasped, there was an odd light inside of them.  
“I won’t tell anyone Mr. Mag-“ She began.  
“No, of course not,” He cut her off and tightened his grip. “You will call me Elias or Mr. Bouchard.”  
She nodded.  
“I know you killed your first husband, he was a nasty piece of work, deserved it. I know you ‘practised’ it first on several elderly patients first and I know you have continued to kill the old and vulnerable. I can see every death,” He said.  
She looked at him, eyes alight, mouth slightly open, she was so scared and turned on and she was awe-struck.  
“Please,” She gasped. “How do you know?”  
“I can see inside your mind,” He said and gave her throat a little squeeze just to be safe. “I can see that you are married yet again, he’s a cop, he’s boorish, a dull, dumb man, who cannot satisfy you sexually and to make matters worse you both have custody of your nephew, who is almost two but so addled by the abuse his mother dealt out to him, he will be disabled for life. All you see ahead of you is dreary misery. You have all the tools at your grasp to get rid of this problem Priscilla. I’m surprised you haven’t seen it yourself.”  
“…How?” She asked bewildered, it was sincere.  
He smiled and released her neck. He leaned up and whispered the solution in her ear. She broke into a grin like he’d never seen.  
And then she asked. “Elias… can I?”  
He saw her mind and he smiled. “Yes, I think I would enjoy that.”  
They kissed for the first time and a few moments later he had her bent over and was balls deep inside of her.  
~~~~~2017~~~~~~~~  
Her tongue was running up and down his shaft. He watched her dark glimmering eyes meeting his, her hands were on his balls, gently stroking. It felt tremendous, the sensations washing over him he moaned and growled as the waves of pleasure came up over him. Then her mouth was gone.  
“Let me ride you,” She asked. “You don’t have to do anything at all.”  
“If you want,” He said with a grin he wasn’t about to complain.  
She mounted him and slid herself down onto his cock, her hips rocked and rolled and he watched her breasts jiggle, her eyes dark and glimmering staring back at him glassily as she rode him. Oh, it felt amazing, warm and hot so drenched, the rhythm of her body around him. Liquid waves of silk and warmth and sensation surging over him over and over again. Her glassy eyes unfocused, as she moaned out his real name.  
“Ohhhh,” he breathed. “Ohhh… ohhhh… yes…. Yess yess….”  
“JONAH!” She screamed.  
“SAY IT!!” He commanded as the sensation surged over him as she rode him, grinding and rotating harder and deeper. He reached up and tugged her nipples hard.  
“JONAHHHHHHHH!” She shrieked.  
He thrust up, knowing exactly the right spot to hit over and over again, until her eyes were dull, closed. She was so wet and tight, it zinged up his core, her quim gripped and shook his cock… it felt…it felt… Oh, he was dizzy but exalting they had stopped making noises like humans at this point, more like animals than people.... it felt so good, so perfect as her nails dug into his chest and they both howled. She came first, her hips stuttering and juddering out, her quim contracting around him as he felt it drag out his own orgasm as it washed over him. Through him around him… he could feel it in his toes and fingers and hair and cock surging through him HOT shooting and THERE.  
“FUCK!” He cursed  
Then it was done. She crawled off him. He nipped at her breasts, she laughed, and he wrapped his arms around her and nibbled at the mole. They held each other for a little while skin on skin smooth and soft.  
“I hope you feel better,” She said. She had rolled a joint sometime before and plucked it off the nightstand. She took a hit and handed it to him. He breathed down the smoke, let the dizzy soothing feeling overtake him, let the eye go hazy a bit.  
“I do, Priss, you are so very helpful.” He said.  
“And you are--?“ She began.  
“—You know what I am Priss,” he said lazily.  
“That I do.” She said.  
~~1996~~~  
It was very tragic that Priscilla Abbott’s new husband and young nephew went missing. She had last seen them going for a walk, she claimed. They never returned, no trace of them was ever found.

[](https://ibb.co/6FBfqHX)   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by Hisshex.


	2. just desserts

May, ??, 2017  
She fell heavily onto the floor, her blood hot and gushing from where she’d been cut. She didn’t know how many times, there was so much of it out of her and onto the previously clean floor. She was dizzy and weak, she couldn’t stay on her feet. She looked up at the familiar door and saw …not her former lover, Micheal, but the kind face of a woman she had such a look of pity on her face. Poor little human! In over her head! Priss wasn’t sure she wanted that pity. Priss turned away. The door closed and she dragged herself bleeding in the direction of the bathroom. She had a full first aid kit in there and she needed a tourniquet needed to staunch the bleeding… there was so much blood and she couldn’t … couldn’t move anymore.  
She had no choice but to just lay there as her life ebbed out. She heard her phone go off and knew HIS ringtone … it was useless. She didn’t know long she was lying there bleeding… dying… it hurt.

She could hear the car tires crunch on the gravel and the front door open as things began to darken. She felt a slight poke and opened her eyes.

“Is she dead, Elias?” the familiar faux kindness of Peter Lukas.

“Not quite…” Elias said. She looked up at them, Elias was smirking at her, amused of course. Peter had the good sense to look a bit sad, but that could just be his face.

She managed to open her mouth a little and grunt, she didn’t have the energy to say anything. 

“I suppose you knew we’d be walking into this,” Peter said.

“Yes I did, poor dear Priss, always you were always so useful and comforting,” Elias said. “Shame you didn’t know which monsters not to sleep with, looks like you got cut to ribbons. ‘Tis a pity you were a whore.”

Priscilla’s lips twitched in an almost smile, her head swam with the effort and she closed her eyes, she was angry, she briefly wondered if they’d let her die. “You know where she kept everything right?” Peter said.

“ Of course—“ Elias began. Priscilla Holly Abbott breathed her last.

~~~~~1996~~~~~~~

“No kiss, Priss?” Elias asked playfully as she slid in the car’s backseat next to him.

She smiled at him, it was a warm happy smile and yes they kissed, briefly. She was wearing the strapless blue evening gown he’d bought her, she’d never been in something so expensive.

“I’ve never been to an event like this, it seems really posh,” She said.

“Oh, it is,” Elias sighed. “It’s the annual institute gala for donors. It’s my job to charm money out of all of them. Much harder than it sounds.”

He’d been working late a lot more, whatever their relationship was…. It was never formalized, they never dated like regular people. They slept together sure, spent time together and she did her best to take care of him, whatever that meant, whatever he wanted really. She’d never met anyone like him; he was so powerful and so much more exciting than anyone she’d met before. The world he navigated was dark, strange and compelling, he made her blood pump and her pulse race. She knew the person she saw was just a body and he was something more, and he’d let her hold him, let her see him so intimately. However lately, he hadn’t been around much... She couldn’t feel him inside of her head when she did her rounds, he hadn’t called until recently. He’d had a meeting with a big donor, the Lukases at their estate. She wondered if someone else had caught his eye so to speak. She tried to push the thoughts aside. After all who was going to be on his arm tonight? Her.

She’d been to institute a few times, mostly for visits at lunch when she had the time and he asked. But it had been day time and it hadn’t been all set up for a party, Priscilla hoped that awful old woman wasn’t going to be there. The one that openly glared at her.

“No Gertrude wasn’t invited.” He said casually. “She tends to scare away some of the more nervous donors.”

She hadn’t said anything of course but Priss liked that about him, he knew.

“That’s good then,” She said. “I take it she’s jealous, I mean you’d never look at her like that.”

He chuckled. “Well, something like that. More like she disapproves.”

“Hmmmph just cuz some old dried up bitch hasn’t been shagged since the sixties…” She began.

“Quite.” He said.

He put his arm around her and she wanted him to take her right there however they were pulling up the front of the institute. The lobby was mostly brightly lit and caterers had set up tables and a bar, there were waiters walking around with trays held aloft and things on. There were already guests milling about in tuxs and gowns among the tables. There was a very old man bald, wearing a navy blue suit with a silver tie pin who winked at Priss. There was a darkened corner with a group of people, hard to see standing in it. Elias led her to a high table and patted her hand.

“You have to make the rounds?” She said.

“Yes,” He sighed. “Don’t fret I’ll be back and I’m leaving you capable hands, isn’t that right Mikaele?”

She turned around and saw looming over her giant of a man in a steel grey suit, his hair was close cropped and he had a tan.

“She’ll be fine with me Elias,” He boomed. “Won’t you, dearie?”

Priss looked back and Elias was already across the room.

“Yes, “ she said she introduced herself. “So is it an open bar?”

Mikaele laughed again. “Naw, but don’t worry I’ll buy you a drink.”

There was a warmth in his eyes and smile. He seemed alright, she found herself smiling back. “Thanks.”  
She drank an amaretto sour and they ate some of the things on sticks and talked a bit. Mikaele Salesa was fascinating and funny. She almost forgot about Elias but she kept her eyes out for him, she had last seen him talking to a man dressed in a white gauze tuxedo. Salesa came back with another round.

“Ta,” She said, taking a sip then she turned back and Elias wasn’t there anymore.

Salesa gave a low whistle. “You’re wasting your time with him, luv.”

“What do you mean?” She asked. “I know what he serves and all.”

Salesa chuckled. “No, he’s moved on, whatever you had is gone and he’s got another in his cold, black heart.”

She blinked and shook her head: “No, he said he’d come back, he wouldn’t have brought me here if…”

Her head whipped around and she saw the others staring at her and Elias was nowhere to be found.  
Salesa shook his head in a sad way. Priss felt a hard surge of sadness and anger surge up inside her. Elias wasn’t in the room anywhere. Priss swore she heard laughter. She left the lobby and made her way up the stairs. Elias’s office door was ajar, she could hear low male voices. She peeked in and saw Elias and one of the Lukases…. What was his name? Talking, smoking and standing very close. Maybe they were just… and then she saw Elias’ hand resting on the other man’s thigh. The other man bent down and she watched, stomach dropping, as they kissed. Elias turned his head and looked directly at her, smiling. He said something to the other man who looked startled and vanished in a puff of mist. She was crying, he didn’t want her, he'd found someone more like himself…. What was she? She was just human, she was unworthy and she’d always would be, all she wanted was him. Now she’d lost it.  
Her head was spinning as she ran back down the stairs and she couldn’t go to the lobby. They’d see, they’d know, they’d laugh and judge. So she went down further into the bowels of the institute. She found herself sitting and sobbing on a dimly lit staircase.

“Are you alright dearie?” Priss looked up; it was that old woman.

“Yes, I just had too much to drink…” She lied.

“Tch. Don’t lie, he’s used and discarded you, hasn’t he?” Said Gertrude

“No.” Priss found herself getting angry. “He’s just having a private meeting, I had too much to drink and I need to be getting home.”

“I know why he chose you, first husband dead and all those patients in your wake Priscilla Abbott.” Gertrude said. “If you help me, I’ll make sure no one ever connects those deaths to you”

“Me? Help you?” Priss got to her feet angry now. “Just because you don’t like the fact I’m fucking your boss. I wouldn’t help you no matter what dirt you have on me. I won’t do that to him.”

Gertrude scowled at her. “He doesn’t give a tinker’s damn for you and he’ll kill you the moment he thinks you are a threat.”

“You don’t know anything,” Priscilla bristled as she turned and walked away.

She went to the ladies’, washed her face and re-did her makeup. She went back into the lobby Elias was standing side by side with that man.

“Priscilla can I introduce you to my dear friend…Captain Peter Lukas.” Elias said with a smile as wide as his face.

She managed a smile. “It’s so nice to meet you Captain Lukas.” She said, lowering her eyes.

Peter Lukas smiled at her. “Nice to meet you Priscilla. I've heard so much about you, you sure helped Elias recover over the last year. I know he won’t say it, but he really was glad of your help.”

Helped. Past tense, so that was it, she was no longer important, well maybe she never was. It didn’t matter, just being with him for the time they had was enough.

Elias’s eyes sparkled cold and bright. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to take you back to your flat tonight, I have some things to discuss with Peter. But I’ll give you money for a cab if you’d like.”

“No need Elias,” Salesa said, raising a hand. “I’ll take her home.”

“Thanks,” Priscilla said weakly.  
She told Salesa her address and they drove in silence. She felt anger, sadness and a great hole inside of her growing. All the emotions plus the alcohol were making it hard to form real thoughts.

The car stopped: “We’re here?”

And she burst into tears. Salesa shushed her as she fell into his big arms and sobbed into his chest, he patted her back and held her making soothing noises.

“I’m so sorry Mikaele …I‘m not usually… I just…I’ve had too much to drink…” She said.

“It’s alright. You want me to walk you up to your flat?” He offered.

“Yes.” She said.

He was at the door and she took his hand. “Thank you so much, Mikaele. “  
She saw the portrait of kittens in a basket in the hallway then an idea came to her, she leaned up and kissed him gently on the cheek. She watched the big man color a bit and smile.

“It’s nothing.” He said. “See you again?”

She noticed the kitten picture blink.

“Yeah,” She said and she went inside her flat and closed the door.

[](https://ibb.co/100B9Jw)


	3. Hello Mr. Fairchild

~~~~ Ten Months later~~~~~~

She’d been dating Mikaele for a while now, he treated her well when he wasn’t at sea, they had a flat. She liked him, he could be so brutal but with her he was kind and a gentleman. She felt safe with him, in his big arms it was like nothing could hurt her ever. But she didn’t LOVE him; they both knew it. He had lovers in other ports and if she wanted to she could fuck who she pleased as long she was careful about it. She never felt the desire for anyone or anything but her vibe. When she’d heard that Elias and Peter were rumored to share a flat now, she pretended it didn’t matter. However, when Salesa came back from sea she climbed him and rode him like it was the last time she’d ever fuck again just to prove she was fine. Sometimes when she was alone or at work, she swore she felt Elias inside her head looking out from her eyes, she pretended that she couldn’t feel her heart quicken, and she went about her normal routine, but just in case, she made sure it was the night she topped off someone’s morphine for the last time.  
It was late in the morning and Mikaele was not around and he was going to meet a client. That’s when she heard the crash from outside on the balcony. She was startled and looked out to see an old man in light blue linen, pulling himself up from the balcony floor. He looked a bit familiar then he smiled and winked at her and she realized it was the same old man from the institute gala. She realized his eyes matched his suit and were the exact color of the sky behind them.

She opened the balcony door. “Hello? Can I help you dear?”

“Yes I think you can, I’m Simon Fairchild and I’m here to see Salesa,” He said offering his hand.

She smiled awkwardly and stuck out her own hand. “He’s off to meet…. you.”

“Well this appears to be a bit of a mix-up,” He said and he took her hand.

She felt a rush of air, a sensation of falling for a brief moment and her heart started to beat faster, her blood rushed to her head and other parts. She let go of his hand.

“Ooh you are a charmer,” She cooed despite herself.

He smiled wider.

“Oh I didn’t know I still had that effect on young women,” He lied.

There was a pause as she tried to adjust herself internally.

“Would you like to wait for Mikaele inside? I’ll call him, for you,” She said coyly.

“Yes, thank you that would be lovely.” He said.

She called Mikaele and explained the situation and turned to see Simon sitting at the kitchen table looking a bit expectant.

“He’ll be here shortly,” She said.

“That’s wonderful, now can you tell me a bit about yourself?” He said.

She shrugged and giggled; she felt like she was a teenager again and one of the older boys had suddenly, flatteringly, picked her.

“Not much to tell really, I grew up in Essex, got married, went to nursing school, he died…” She began.

“Didn’t I see you at the gala for The Magnus institute?” He said. “On the arm of a certain Elias Bouchard?”

She blushed and smiled. “Yes, well things change, I’m with Mikaele now. Can I get you anything?”

“A cup of tea or if you have any sparkling water?” He asked.

“We do in fact,” She said. She really hoped he wouldn’t bring up Elias again.

She turned to the fridge and opened it, she could feel his eyes on her, she liked it and may have given a bit of a wiggle as she grabbed the bottle of sparkling water. She heard him chuckle, so he was watching! She poured out two glasses of the water and sat down across from him.

“You know I used to be an artist once,” He said. “And you, my dear, have very good lines, Salesa is a very lucky man and Elias is a fool.”

“I wouldn’t know, but thanks,” She said blushing harder.

She wished for a moment he’d touch her again, just so she could feel it, feel him, feel alive. He smiled again.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, my dear, I’ve met so many people in my time and you are a bit different than the standard model,” He said.

“You aren’t so bad yourself, Gramps,” She said. “You certainly are dapper.”

“Why thank you,” He said his eyes were sparkling. “My patron has been generous with the years and I try to keep up appearances at least.”

“Who do you serve?” She asked, putting her hand on the table.

“The Vast.” His hand was lying on hers.

She felt herself falling through the sky, the wind rushing around her, the air in her ears. Oh! It was amazing the sheer unrelenting scale of it all, she knew he could kill her, and she decided it would be worth it if she felt this alive.

He was chuckling and she blinked and put her hand back. “Oh blimey, it’s big Simon.”

“That it is,” He said with a laugh. “And if you want to see something else as big … I’ll show you on the balcony.”

“Mr. Fairchild,” She cooed. “What are you implying?”

He took a long sip of his sparkling water.

Her hand was on the table again inching closer, what would it feel like if he kissed her, she wondered, what would when be like if he fucked her?

Then she heard the sound of a key in the latch and the doorknob turning, Mikaele was home, his big face showed annoyance but his expression changed when he saw them sitting at the kitchen table. There was a sparkle in his eyes and a slight grin.

“You’re home,” Priss said trying to hide her blushes.

“I am, nice to see you and Simon getting along, good thing he didn’t chuck you off the balcony.” Mikaele said.

“Oh I would never do that,” Simon said with a twinkle. “Not unless I was asked. Now I think you have a certain model plane you want to sell me?”

“Yes I do,” Salesa said.

He walked over to Priss and they kissed, his face was rough and warm, she could smell his cologne

Simon and Mikaele walked off together and Priss finished up her glass of sparkling water.

When Mikaele came back alone, she felt her heart sink a bit. He sat down on the sofa and she sat beside him and she put her arms around him. He was silent for a bit then he spoke:

“You like Simon then?’

“Well he is a charmer, but he’s not you,” She said.

“He’s not, he’s an avatar of the Vast, very dangerous. I know you, Priss any hint of the supernatural makes your knees weak.” He said, there was a tinge of regret in his voice.

“Yeah,” She sighed. “Look I promise I won’t…”  
She snuggled closer, trying to seem small and submissive.

Then he laughed a big deep laugh. “No, it’s alright, we’re in an open relationship, besides your tastes can only help in my line of work.”

She looked up at him confused and relieved: “Really?”

“Yeah, Simon couldn’t stop going on about you, darling.” He said. “I was able to get a bit more out of it than I thought for the model plane”

She leaned up and they kissed over and over again. He was hot and warm and his hands were rough on her. But her blood was pumping. Later he picked her up in his arms and took her to the bedroom. It was good but it wasn’t enough. As she lay there cuddled up inside his big warm arms, she was smoking her cigarette and he was puffing on a Cuban cigar, he had a look on his face he was thinking hard. He took it out of his mouth:

“Now, Priss dear, I know nothing makes you wetter than some avatar or servant of a fear. But there are some for both our sakes you shouldn’t try and fuck.”  
“Oh?” She asked.

“Yeah like if some joker called John Amherst comes sniffing around, don’t touch him, he’s the Filth, the Corruption, which is all bugs, parasites, disease and rot.” He said. “You’ll get a VD just looking at him dear.”

“Ewww, I don’t think I would.” She said.

“Then there’s the Desolation, it’s all burning, pain and fire, none of the good bits of it,” He said. “Their touch will burn you worse than a grease fire.”

She shuddered thinking of the injuries she’d seen in the burn unit. “Don’t think that sounds tempting.”

“Then there’s the Flesh, now they can be interesting but it’ll end up with you as dinner,” He warned.”And finally the Stranger… it would rather replace you and dance about in your skin …it never was human and doesn’t want fuck just fuck about. You’ll know 'em if you see ‘em, none of them seem human enough.”

“Anything else?” She said.

“Well, the Buried might be an issue. Hezekiah’s only joy is covering people in dirt, not the part of choking you are so fond of.” He commented. “The Slaughter and End well, you’ll wind up dead. The Spiral, I don’t think that’s human enough for pleasures of the flesh. And anyone else is fine, luv.”

She kissed him again. “Even Elias?”  
She could feel something stir inside of her saying his name, it was Elias looking out from inside.

“Naw, he’s done with you.” Mikaele said. “Don’t worry about him.”

She grinned to herself in the darkness of their bedroom and hid her face. No, he wasn’t.

[](https://ibb.co/3YCqbSD)


	4. Hello Mr. Fairchild (part 2).

It a was few days later Salesa was off talking to a customer, that there was knock on the door, a gentle tap almost polite. Priscilla’s shift didn’t start until that night and she was lounging around in the nude. She put on a silk robe just to get the door. Standing there bent over his cane was Simon Fairchild.

“Hello, may I come in?” He asked.

“Yes, I think there was something you wanted to show me on the balcony last time we talked,” She said with a laugh.

“Yes, I think I will show you,” He replied eyes twinkling.

He walked through the door and she closed it behind him.

As it turned out he didn’t need the cane as they walked out onto the flat’s narrow balcony, she leaned against the guardrail and felt it wobble a bit, a jolt delicious thrilling fear swept through her, it was ten stories down.  
He winked at her.

“Now where would you like to begin?” She asked.

“How about a kiss?” He said.

She giggled and colored bending down she kissed him then felt the world drop from under her. He tasted like petrichor, like ozone, and she was falling but he was holding her she felt so hungry, she needed more, So they kept kissing and the world was gone the sky was all around her wind rushing in her ears tumbling free falling. He pulled back grabbed the sash of her robe she nodded dumbly as he whipped it away, and her robe fell off. His hands on her breasts, touching her there she felt the electricity, the dizzying rush of tumbling and she needed more. He kept teasing her with touches and kisses.

She moaned softly, she needed him now inside her.

“How about that big thing you wanted to show me?” She teased.

“Hmmm…” He smiled wickedly and unzipped.

He wasn’t joking it was astounding in size and she wondered for a moment if would hurt, but then decided it would worth it.

“Now … how do we go about….?” She asked.

She ended up on her back, lying against that wobbly guard rail, her legs around his chest. She wondered briefly about any neighbors seeing this but then realized it…. She wanted them to see it.  
When he slid into her, she could feel the wind rush in her ears and inside. He was riding her, he was inside of her and she could feel every inch against her walls. She wrapped her legs tighter, Oh, Oh she could feel she herself falling tumbling, she could hear the wind rushing and the world dissolving inside of her… nothing but blue sky. She was pushing against him, she could feel the balcony's railing wobble and hear the creak of the metal, they kept going the waves of electric pleasure ripping her asunder over and over again, the free fall would not STOP and she loved every exhilarating heart pounding moment of it. She ground into him and her breath was heavy she was literally dangling between life and death, as the sky was inside of her the whole unending blue and she screamed and screamed as she felt the pleasure built in her. She came hard her hips shuddering and her mouth filled with dumb praise. Then he pulled back and plunged back in and she came again, and again and again… she thought hazily it hadn’t been like this since…. since… OH she was still falling right? Had the railing given way? This release hurt as the wind rushed in her ears and she sank her teeth into him. That pushed him over the edge and the sky shuddered and stuttered as he THRUST deep into her all of him, he swore in language she didn’t know. She held on legs and arms wrapped tight, the taste of ozone in her mouth.

Then it was over they kissed sweetly.

“That was…..” She huffed.

“…Yes?” He smiled as he pulled her back with strength she’d never guess he had.

“So good,” She sighed.

He kissed her and she felt numb. They held each other on the balcony and she could feel someone in her head. She’d gotten Elias’ attention with that and it was fun. Simon was fun, they cleaned up together.

“I think I still ‘have it,” He remarked after the shower.

Watching Priss wobble around on unsteady legs, she could hardly walk.

“You’re not bad for an old man,” She laughed.

“Hmmm,” He smiled at her. “No I suppose not.”

After he left. She rested for a bit, then dressed, she could feel Elias staring out of her eyes devouring her body with his gaze. She’d see Simon again of course, anyone who could that to her was always welcome, though she’d need something to help her recover but they had that sort of thing at work.


	5. New Year's hook up.

~December 31st, 1997~

It was twenty minutes to midnight and the party was in full swing. Salesa was entertaining clients, of course, Simon was there but there were others, among them was Elias Bouchard. They hardly exchanged two words, and maybe it was better that way. She was in a silver-blue cocktail dress that came down just above her knees and at her throat a diamond necklace. She was happy, Mikaele treated her like a queen, which was fair because she treated him likewise. Simon was charming and he always made her legs wobble when they made love. The night had been good for nearly everyone but it didn’t stop the people around her bitching about how time was a meaningless construct and that this year wasn't going to be any different. She tuned it out, smoked her cigarettes and drank a few glasses of bubbly.

She realized she needed to fix her makeup and made her way to the bathroom, humming as she washed her face and was about to put on her eyeliner when she looked up. Elias was standing in the corner.

“Really Priss, pastels? They don’t suit you.” He said snidely.

“Hmm Simon likes me in these colors,” She said with venom. “You know I’m so happy these days, it’s wonderful to be someone who actually appreciates you.”

“Quite.” Elias said.

“You here to do a line or something?” She said.

“Well, I thought I’d at least catch up a bit with you first,” He remarked circling closer.

Her heart thudded in her chest and she edged closer to the door.

“Where’s the good captain?” She asked.

“He’s spending New Year’s eve the way he prefers, alone at sea,” Elias replied, he was smiling at her, his eyes glimmering.

“Mmmm by yourself then, dear,” She tried to play it cool.

“I thought we could catch up a bit, face to face,” He said, he was mere inches away from her. “Rumors and gossip are one thing but actually talking is better, don’t you agree?”

She locked the door behind them, his eyes were so lovely and he was so near.

“Yes,” She said.

He leaned forward and kissed her; it was a ferocious kiss of teeth and tongues. She could feel him hard against her thighs and she ground into him parting her legs a bit, he made a small approving hum and rubbed into her as they kissed. She closed her eyes and he did not. She moaned as she felt his hardness rubbing against her. They kissed more, it felt like coming home, he tasted like he always had and she melted into him. He stepped back and slipped his hand under her skirt, and up into her panties.

“Elias….” She moaned.

“I want to know the state of you before I go on,” He said. “Well, well, well, you’re already quite wet, you slut.”

She whimpered as fingers explored her folds, his thumb found her clit and began a well practised rubbing motion over it and she felt her knees buckle.She moaned as he pushed his fingers inside of her.

“You’re still pretty tight, that’s impressive considering the usage you’ve gotten this year.” He mused.  
He had two fingers in her and was making a beckoning motion in that spot and she bit her lips to hide the sounds she wanted as her head swam.

“Please….” She begged. “Fuck me.”

“Since you asked so politely, I will.” He said smugly.

She spread her legs, kicked off her panties and leaned up against the door, he adjusted himself and slid in with a small grunt. She could feel him inside of her, he fit so well and when he moved she felt her world shift, and the pleasure began to build with each thrust. She wrapped a leg around him.

“I know you are lying,” He hissed into her ear. “I’m all you want.”

She felt him against her walls, and ground down to meet his thrusts, the electricity was building, each small circle of bliss expanding outwards. He was so deep inside of her, every movement was unseating her, every spark lighting up her pelvis, every feeling concentrated and expanding. He knew exactly what to do. She ground tighter into him, rolled her hips as much as she could, she could hear him bite off a moan and his breathing got heavier.

“Elias….” She whispered… “Elias….uhhhhhhhhhhhh”

“Don’t call me that,” he whispered. “You know what I like…”

He was hard and deep inside of her, pumping away, drawing gasps and moans from her, everything was electric, every movement blissful, purposeful and she couldn’t... she needed this... she let him ride her and bit off the scream that threatened to erupt.  
“Jonah…” She gasped.  
And her world exploded, she tipped over the edge as the orgasm ripped through her, he kept at it long past the point of comfort and she could feel herself convulse, mouthing nonsense.

“…..Yes just like that…” He murmured ferociously.

She came again, stars flashed in her eyes and everything was shaking. She writhed and moaned, it was just too much. She heard him groan like he’d been punched, felt him thrust deep and hard as he came, but he kept going, hips unrelenting, mouth on her collarbone. She heard the count down outside and felt a crescendo like a knife of pleasure rip into her, so hard it hurt, so much her knees gave way and her head swam as her vision went back.

He was standing over her when she came too smirking. He helped her to her feet.

“It’s midnight,” He said. “Kiss Priss?”

“Yes of course.” She giggled.

They kissed lightly, almost chastely.

Afterwards, she was sure everyone knew. They all looked at her and him, she’d tried her best to re-adjust her outfit, her make up… but… well… it had been twenty minutes. Simon winked and smiled at her and shook his head.  
That night after the guests left Mikaele turned his back on her in the bed they shared, oh well, they didn’t love each other anyhow.

[](https://ibb.co/y6znVQt)


	6. No, just no.

~~~~March 1999~~~~  
Priss still shared a flat with Mikaele, though things had cooled down between them, they were still friends, friends who occasionally slept together and helped each other out. She would help him entertain some of his more interesting clients, it wasn’t as if she wouldn’t be keen on it otherwise and she didn’t get paid. She was doing well as a nurse, she made sure she was always dependable, competent and reliable, but never stayed in one place for long. When Peter was away, which was more frequently than not, Elias would see her sometimes for a Saturday and sometimes during his lunch break. She honestly preferred the Saturdays, just the two of them alone in some hotel room, she could take care of him, they’d drink and make love until neither of them could move. However when she came up to his office for ‘lunch’ was nice too, it was good that she could do this for him.

The clock in his office ticked slowly, her knees were carpet burned and sore, the taste of cum was still in her mouth but his eyes were on her.

“Get up,” He ordered.

She did and brushed off her knees.

“Can I have a tissue?” She asked.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” He said with a smile.

She grimaced and swallowed. “And I’d prefer if you didn’t eat asparagus before our dates,” She said.

His smile widened.

“That’s fair, but I’d prefer if you didn’t smell like Salesa,” He said.

“I took a shower before I came here, love.” She said.

“Yes but you live with him, you can’t help it,” He said.

The clock in the office ticked away. He turned to his computer and began to type.

“You want me to get a place of my own?” She said.

He stopped, looked at her and blinked. “Yes, also don’t get pregnant Priss.”

“What?!” She googled. “I’m not — I don’t want—“

“…You don’t want children, but have you asked Salesa about it? I’ve heard, concerning things about it,” Elias said in a mild and slightly distressed voice.

“Mikaele never said… we aren’t…” She began. “Oh, that bastard!”

“He still has feelings for you, and if the next time you two are intimate he might try something, and you might be stuck as Mrs. Salesa,” Elias said. “If that was the case I’m afraid that our relationship would have to end.”

She looked at him and his eyes were glimmering but there was something that could be pity in them or regret? Maybe? She wouldn’t let this happen, she had to be clear with Mikaele. She had to move soon, she’d start looking for new places as soon she got home.

“I’ll see you around darling,” She said as she left.

“Mmmm do take care…” He said absentmindedly he was already looking at the computer screen again.  
~~~~~~~~  
The stench was coming from the patient room she’d been assigned, The name on the file said John Amherst in a shaky hand and Priss was sure her fellow nurses wouldn’t let her change patients, she had too, this was her job. She held her breath and went in.

“Hello, what brings you here Mr. Amherst?” She said as she entered the room.

John Amherst would have been attractive if it wasn't for the stench, the yellowing jaundiced skin and watering eyes. He was tall, thin and had a shock of dark hair. He wore an ill-fitting brown suit. If she hadn’t been warned and he didn’t smell like an open sewer...

He smiled greasily at her. “You, Nurse Abbott.”

“No.” She said. “You look like you’re running a fever.”

“Oh I am, examine me,” He said with a smile. “I’ve heard about you, whisperings and rumors. You’re Salesa’s girl. You were a pet of the eye, a lover of the vast, a toy for the dark and as for the hunt…. Well -I heard-… they… certainly caught you.”

“And you think I’m going to what… drop my panties for your puss dripping tallywacker?” She said rolling her eyes.

She looked down, there was indeed a leaking bulge in the front of his trousers.

“Oh my darling,” he crooned. “Don’t play coy, I am a very cunning linguist, expert cocksman and I could fill you with such… love.”

He licked his lips.

She shuddered. “I don’t care what you can do. I ain’t catching no STD off you luv. You can fuck off.”

“Please,” He said he got up and began to walk towards her. “I will worship you with my body.”

She was gagging and trying not to vomit at the stench. “No! You disgusting freak.”

“Please my lady, let me fill you with my love, let me touch you it’s been so… long,” There was a sadness in his voice, a real longing but he was… the table he was sitting on was slick with a slime…she wanted to vomit from the reek.

“No.” She said.

“My lady, I’ll bathe in bleach, I’ll wear a hazmat suit just —just….” He pleaded. He was inching ever closer.

She reached behind her and found the cleaning spray they used on the table in between patients. She squirted in his face and he shrieked like a child, his hands fluttering up to face, the steam coming from his face like she had burned him. She backed out the door spraying the disinfectant.

“SECURITY!” She shouted as she slammed the door between them.

The next day that whole wing was closed down, clear plastic curtains in between and the rest of the hospital and everyone in it wore a hazmat suit.

[](https://ibb.co/vLGnxmm)


	7. Daddy like (part 1)

CHAPTER 7 2161 WORDS

~~~~~April 1999~~~~~

Priscilla thumbed through the listing for flats, she was sitting on a very posh armchair in the penthouse suite of one of the best hotels in London. She was alone, but Elias would be along as soon as work was over, if there was one thing about Elias Bouchard he was regular as clockwork. He might show up two hours late because of his work, but it was always two hours, no more, no less. He scheduled out these things in advance. Yes, other lovers of hers could be spontaneous, but not him. She’d cut off Mikaele completely since her talk with Elias and she knew that whatever lingering generosity and friendship the big man felt for her was wearing thin. However, Elias had warned her and after all, he could see inside your head so he’d know right? She almost felt bad about it though, the look in Mikeaele’s eyes, the sadness and frustration, he was good to her, but she didn’t want a third husband and she certainly didn’t want kids.  
The clock in the room’s foyer ticked, it was half-past six and the sky outside was beginning to darken, there was a painting in the foyer where she sat, Elias told her it was by someone called Leyendecker last time they’d stayed here, the man in the painting reminded her of Elias. And not just because she knew he was most certainly keeping at least one eye on her through it. She had dressed the way he liked: black silk robe, no bra, thigh-high white transparent stockings on her legs held up by ribbons, no panties, full muff. She smiled as she looked at the painting, put down the listing and picked up a small battery-powered vibrator. She stretched, flashing a bit of tit and spread her legs wide. She clicked on the vibe, it whirred and she teasingly ran it over her breasts, nipples… and then down to her clit, it felt nice… it wasn’t much really, but the way her blood was thrumming inside of her and she felt his eyes on her. She smiled, she had his full attention now. She played with herself a bit more, just teasing herself, knowing he was hurrying off to her, the orgasm wasn’t even as good as she pantomimed. However, the idea of him seeing it and grinning to himself somewhere out in the London night gave her a little flutter inside.  
Anyways he’d be here soon: she took a sponge bath, fixed her hair, freshened her makeup, re-applied her perfume. Lube was put out onto the nightstand, the wine set down next to it, the bong unlit but otherwise ready, the weed, the small cigarette case containing cocaine, and other ‘goodies’ she’d picked up from work were all put within easy reach. She checked her hair, he wanted it down right? Yes. She crunched a breath mint. They’d be together for what? Most of tonight and most of tomorrow… maybe even some of Sunday. If all went as planned she’d be with him for almost two days, which was the longest amount of time they’d spend together since he’d met Peter.

She sat in the foyer trying to pretend she hadn’t rushed around like a moron, reading the non listing part of the papers and looking as if she didn’t care.

The lock clicked, the door opened and closed and she looked up, there he was.

“Hullo luv,” She said getting up from her chair languidly. 

“Kiss Priss, darling?” He asked.

“Of course dear,” She said, closing the distance between them.

She bent down and they kissed, his arms snaked around her and the kiss deepened, he squeezed her arse. She giggled, startled, kissing him again.

“Hmmm, a bath perhaps Priss?” He said.

“Of course, I’ll get the water running.” She said.

“Take off your robe, I want to see it jiggle,” He added taking a cigarette from his trousers pocket and lighting it.

She giggled and dropped the robe, sauntered towards the bathroom swinging her hips with every step. There was a deep freestanding tub separate from the shower in the bathroom, it was a requirement for their stay that the hotel had such a thing. She bent over to push in the plug and turned the hot tap, watching it fill up, knowing he was standing in the doorway watching her, smoking.

“Want me to join you Elias?” She asked.

“No need,” He said.

“Alright,” She replied and stepped back.

He walked in the door. “If you would be so kind as to help me out of these things?”

She undressed him carefully, kissing or nibbling wherever she exposed more and more skin, but being ever so careful to make sure his clothing was neatly hung up and out of the way as she went. He watched her intently drinking in every bit of her as she went about this. She massaged his back and shoulders, he responded with a satisfied groan, leaning back into her body and kissing her neck she surprised herself by moaning,

“Your bath is going to get cold, dear.” She said.

“You spoil me Priss, I don’t deserve you,” He said his eyes glimmering as he moved out her embrace and stepped into the bath.

“That may be, but you got me,” She said.

She reached over for the cigarettes, wine and the shampoo. He relaxed in the tub, as they smoked, drank glasses of red wine that tastes like dried cherries and leather. She washed his hair, he leant back stretching into her hands, moaning softly, utterly content and for once eyes closed. Then his eyes shot open and he laughed, she did too. He leaned up, kissed the tip of her nose, she responded in kind and they both giggled.

“I’ve changed my mind,” He said thoughtfully. “Take off those stockings and get in.”

He was leaning over the rim tub watching her peel off the stockings, sipping his wine. She slid into the bath with him back against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, hands going to her breasts, kneading them gently, one his fingers fiddling with the mole on the underside of her left breast. She wondered if she should get it looked at, they snuggled in the cooling water: talking about nothing, smoking, drinking occasionally and kissing. It felt good to be so close to him, his skin against hers, and his arms around her shoulders. She felt so comfortable, so happy, but it wouldn’t last and she knew that too, in the end, she was just human and he was so much more.

“What am I to you?” She asked.

There was a pause as the water dripped.

“You are …a great comfort to me.” He said. “Is that enough Priss?”

“Yes, I suppose,” She said smiling lazily.

He kissed her, letting his hands trail downwards, she couldn’t help closing her eyes as his fingers explored her. It felt good, it felt right, he had his thumb circling her clit and two fingers inside of her. She felt waves of pleasure ripple through her body, small but concentrated. She knew he liked seeing her like this, pleasure and desire play across her face. She let herself enjoy it for a little while. She reached down between his legs and he made a small approving moan. It was perfect.

Later they were lying in bed, naked, half-drunk and she was telling him about her encounter with Amherst, he was smiling and chuckling to himself.

“He did deserve it, very few would willingly sleep with the Filth,” He said.

“You mean people have?” She asked.

He blinked and beamed at her. “Yes, they have those who were without a patron who died from a nasty strain of syphilis that is, I believe, immune to antibiotics.”

She smiled at him. “Oooh that’s nasty.”

“Quite.” He said. “But the last case of that particular strain was in 1950 and so I guess it’s been nearly fifty years since someone wanted to touch him.”

They both laughed and laughed. She reached out and put her arms around him; they kissed quickly, short bursts of affection that grew longer and longer. She folded him in her arms and the kisses grew languid. They rolled over and he was on top of her. He paused and looked at her: eyes heavy, grinning.

“I know what you want…” She said in a teasingly sing-song.

“Mmmm, do you now?” He said and kissed her a few more times.

An image dropped in her mind, a memory, his memory from last time.

“Of course, darling.” She purred.

He kissed her lips, then her neck, then collar bone and kissed his way down to her pussy. He nuzzled her pubic hair, nipped, kissed her at her thighs. She parted her legs and he was in between them parting her folds, licking her clit in long broad strokes, his deft tongue lapping away at her. She could feel waves of pleasure rippling inside her; she began to moan short staccato noises as she felt each stroke of his tongue. Then he paused and sucked down and she could a sharp stab of pleasure rip through her. He hummed as he sucked and she could feel the vibrations buzzing against her clit, moving through her veins. She let her mind dissolve just focusing on the mounting feelings of pleasure that was building inside her. He kept going and going relentlessly until she could feel dancing along every nerve. She was calling out but no longer making sense or saying any words. He slid two fingers inside of her and made a beckoning motion stroking that spot until she screamed and shuddered coming hard.

He stretched out next to her and stuck the same fingers that were inside of her into her mouth. She licked them clean and he stared into her, grinning. She stared right back and gave one finger a nip. He chuckled and withdrew the fingers.

“I want that quim, Priss.” He said lazily.

“Of course, darling.” She said stretching out and putting her arms around him.

He rolled on top of her and slid into her. He went slow and deep at first, letting her feel him inside of her. She wrapped her legs around him, meeting his strokes. Each movement radiated such bliss. He sped up, pumping into her faster and harder. She met his movements with vigor. She felt him looking at her as he was deep in her, as he thrust away and she felt suddenly awfully known and seen by him.

“Yess…” he growled. “Yesss… yes yes Priss…”

She closed her eyes and tried to just let the amazing pulse of stimulation continue as he plunged into her, each movement causing waves of delight. He made an angry, unhappy noise.

“OPEN YOUR EYES AND LOOK AT ME!” He roared.

She did,smiling as she adjusted, wrapped her legs around his shoulders and squeezed him down there tightly, rhythmically.

“Jonaaahhh,” She crooned. “Jonnnnahhhh…”

He stuttered and moaned, his usual eloquence leaving him as his eyes went dull from pleasure.

She kept fucking him harder and harder, grinding into him furiously. They rolled over and she was on top, she grinned, he had a heavy-lidded, dull expression, his mouth half-open. She rolled and rocked faster, calling out his true name. He reached up and fondled her nipples, she rewarded him with a groan of pleasure and moaned his name again. She rode him hard, judging by his expression he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“FUCK!” He cursed, eyes rolling back.  
He gripped the bed, hips thrashing wildly as his eyes closed for once. She could feel his seed trickling out from her. She nursed his orgasm squeezing herself until every pumping drop was out. He looked at her, smiled almost sweetly and leaned up for a kiss. She pulled back.

“I haven’t come yet,” She whispered grinning evilly.

He pouted, and then grinned adjusting himself and began thrust away at that spot inside of her, over and over again. Until she was trembling on top of him, until the noises she made were just as dumb and senseless as his own had been moments before. Reaching up, he twisted her left nipple hard and she came. He kept going. She could feel the orgasm rising again and again. Her vision was swimming and she could feel herself release something wet as it all went black.

She came around to the noise of bubbling liquid.

“Are you quite satisfied now, Priss?” He said, sitting beside her as he took a hit of the bong.

“Well, I suppose it will do,” She teased as she sat up.

He handed the bong to her and she re-lit it and did a hit. The smoke filled her and she giggled at it.  
She nuzzled his arm and he put it around her, they kissed. This was lovely, this was perfect. She knew that it wouldn't stay forever, but for now, being his was what she needed.

[](https://ibb.co/tLpNvF0)


	8. Daddy Like (part 2)

~~~~~  
Elias slept dead in the middle of the bed, arms and legs spread as wide as possible. Even if he started on one side of the bed curled up, he’d move half dozing to that position. His eyes never closed even when in the depths of sleep they were always wide open staring dully. Lately, he’d begun to wear a sleep mask. Priss has learned to her chagrin that it was impossible to snuggle up to him while he slept or touch him at all because he’d wake up, startling quite violently and once had accidentally given her a fat lip by elbowing it. At least he didn’t snore...much. Priss curled tightly the right hand corner of the bed, luckily it was king size mattress so plenty of room for the both of them. She was very stoned and tired anyhow.

She woke up to a gentle nudging, she stretched and looking up Elias was already awake grinning at her.

“Good Morning, luv.” She murmured.

“Good Morning Priss, room service is on its way but in the meantime…” He said and looked down to the tented duvet at his waist.

“Tch, alright, can I get a kiss first?” She muttered.

She leaned up and he kissed her, mouth lingering against her own. She sat up, removed the duvet, licked her lips and set to work, fellating him as he petted her head and stared at her lazily. It was going well, he was making happy little sighs and moans but breakfast would be here soon, and this wouldn’t do if they wanted it hot. She held up her fingers so he could see them wiggled them and thought about what she wanted to do.

“Mmmm yes, of course,” he said.

She slid a finger into him and dragged it across his prostate as she sucked his cock. He began to moan, and she slipped in another finger making a beckoning movement careful not to poke but to stroke. He was louder now, calling her name and stuttering as she took him deeper into her throat. He cried out like in pain, thrust into her throat and she tasted a hot long spurt of cum in her mouth, she kept stroking and swallowing until every bit was gone. At least today it didn’t taste acrid today and breakfast would be here soon. Knowing him, it would be a full English.  
The rest of the morning was lazy, they ate breakfast, read the paper and she did a crossword as he watched…not her, he was staring out into the ether watching other things. He did help with the crossword though.  
They fucked a few more times, slow and indolently as they drank their way through a pitcher of Mimosas. She was showering after one of these sessions when he walked on her in the shower, staring deeply at her body.

“Elias?” She asked.

“Get extra clean Priss, I’m going to take you from behind,” He said and walked out.

So she did it, it was an effort but she knew him and knew he liked using every entrance provided. He was stroking himself when she came out fresh from the shower. He was on her as soon she got to the bed kissing and nipping at her. He rubbed her clit quick and hard, turned her on her belly, then lube bottle in hand squirted a generous amount inside of her arse. She attempted to relax but couldn’t help a pained squeak when he entered her. It hurt but not that much. It felt good, she melted inside, as he filled her and thrust inside her, each movement a wave of ecstasy. He grabbed a fistful of hair and gave it tug and she moaned, the combined sensations reverberated through her body as she ground and squirmed against him. His right hand on her hips squeezing her arse as they fucked. He was going harder and faster, pulling on her hair like the reins of a horse. She came and he followed not long after.  
He fell against her panting hard as she collapsed. They were lying together like this, he was still inside of her and she could feel his heartbeat. It was nice.

“That was …” She began.

“ It was…” He said with a grunt, he gave her arse a slap. “Well… another shower, Priss?”

He got up and padded off to the shower.

Her head was still ringing but she got to her feet and followed.

The rest of the day was mostly spent together, they made love in all the ways they could, all over the hotel suite, smoked more weed, did a few lines of the coke and sampled the pills she’d brought from the hospital. They didn’t leave the penthouse suite once, lunch and dinner were brought up by room service. It was lovely, it was wonderful to be with him and have his attention for most of the time.  
Sunday morning rolled around she watched as he got ready to leave. There was something she had to ask him, he hadn’t seen it because she tried to keep it out of her head, and to tell the truth he hadn’t been looking.

She lolled on the bed as he packed up his suitcase. She had to say something.

“Elias….” She said.

He looked at her and really looked at her.

“No.” He said.

“I can’t stay with Salesa, you told me he’s gonna try and get me pregnant. I need a new place luv, can’t you help a little?” She asked earnestly.

He scowled and sat down on the bed next to her. “I really can’t, Peter is the one with the money, Priss. And while I can take a little to pay for our trysts. He would not be as happy paying your rent.”

“So what am I going to do?” She pouted. “Everything that’s suitable is out of my budget.”

He paused, patted her head and grinned. “Well, there is always your Mother’s.”

“What?” She looked in horror at him. “No she’s a bitch and I’m well shut of her.”

“You have bodies buried in her backyard.” He reminded her.

“So? She's an awful old cunt and I can’t be around her,” Priss squawked.

“She’s dying of cancer,” Elias said.

“Her second husband can deal with her,” Priss said.

“He’s in a home, early-onset dementia, I believe,” He said.

“I have two brothers and a sister, they can—“ She began.

“Them? Katie is in Australia, Jason has left for Canada and she kicked Damon out when she discovered he was gay.” Elias said. “They aren’t doing anything.”

“So why should I?” Priss bristled.

“Because darling, you need a place and that bungalow is suitable,” He continued running his fingers over her face. “And she is your mother.”

She pulled her face away from him and turned away.  
“I don’t care! I’m not going back there Elias, I’m not dealing with the witch!”

He sighed and shook his head. “Priss, darling, can you really afford the kind of well appointed flat Salesa has you in?”

“No. But I can’t— she’s horrible…” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t know anything. You don’t even have a mother.”

There was a silence and it was chilled as ice.

“I did once,” He said coldly “I saw them cut a stillbirth from her womb and watched her bleed to death.”

Priss turned back to him, There was an awful sadness in his eyes... the same eyes that saw....

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t..” She stumbled.

“You wonder why I was marked for the beholding? I watched her die through a crack in the door, I was seven, I couldn’t do anything. Later they made me kiss her cooling corpse,” he said stiffly.

“I’m sorry, Elias— Jonah I’m,” she began.

He looked at her and she saw it:  
A brown haired woman in an 18th century green floral pattern dress, mop cap on her head, her face was kind, her smile was warm and comforting. She was so tall in the memory… She held out her hand: “will you be so good as to come adventurin’ with me?” She was saying.  
The smell of fabric and rose perfume. The warmth of that hand when he took it.  
The same woman laughing, smiling as they walked down a country lane.  
Then that same woman’s face pale and dead, laid out in a coffin.  
The immense sadness, terrible grief, even after they put her in the ground, three years of it.

Pricilla opened and closed her mouth soundlessly. “I had no idea.”

“Of course not, it was a very long time ago,” He said. “Time has eased it. She was the only one who cared: she read Emilé by Rousseau and much of her Ideas of raising us were based on that, she really loved us. Father was always busy and had no time for as he put it ‘them underfoot’. I think my older brother, the heir, was the only one he paid attention too. After she died we were left to the indifferent care of servants of course in four years I followed my brother to Eton. As for my sisters,…. I think they married.”

He still sounded sad and distant as if he was seeing it all again, feeling it all again.

Priss wrapped her arms around him and held him. He buried his face in her neck and she rocked him. Somehow they ended up kissing again, and soon they were making love, it was gentle and tender. Afterwards, as she dressed and he straightened his suit. 

He looked at her: “So… will you consider my suggestion?”

She looked at him and furrowed her brow. “Yes. After all, she’s the only Mum I have.”

He smiled brighter. “Excellent.”

[](https://ibb.co/xL5JM2z)


	9. Death in the family

Priscilla knew her way around the health care system, and she quickly got in touch with her Mother, the doctors, and everyone relevant. The worst bit was talking to her Mum, though she sounded so hoarse and confused, not like the sharp, unkind woman who’d raised her at all. It was difficult, she thought she was stronger than this, felt less than this. Today was the day she moved out of the flat. Mikaele was there looking at her with a hopeless expression in his eyes but the rest of his face wasn’t showing.

“So you’re leaving then?” He said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“My Mum is dying Mikaele, I should be there for her,” She said.

“There are people who would care for her ya know,” He said.

“Well It wouldn’t be right leaving her to strangers,” She insisted.

He nodded. “This isn’t really why you’re leaving, is it Priss?” He asked.

“Well, I know you don’t want me here, anyhow,” She confessed. “Since I stopped sleeping with you.”

His eyes grew sadder. “You turned cold and I know I can’t change it. I just want to know why.”

She considered, her stuff was packed up, in storage or at her Mums’. So she decided why not?

“Cuz I heard you were planning on getting me pregnant and so you could marry me,” She said coldly.

His face changed to a mask of rage.

“That’s a lie! Who told ya that load of trash?!” He demanded.

She backed away from him. He’d never hurt her, but she wasn’t sure now.

“I-I-I’m not sayin,” She stuttered. “It’s none of your business.”

He turned away and punched the wall, making a dent in it.  
Then took a few minutes and breathed slowly.

“Yeah,” He growled. “I can guess.“

“I’m sorry,” She said softly. “I didn’t want it to end this way, Mikaele.”

“Leave Priss,” He growled. “Leave before you regret it. You and your fancy man.”

She knew a warning when she heard it and left the flat.

~~~~~ June 5th, 1979~~~~~  
Priscilla was four years old and had woken from her nap early. She knew Mummy usually had a drink of wine and took a nap at the same time, maybe now she could get a biscuit or two. So she slowly made her way downstairs, carefully so Mummy wouldn’t hear her. At the bottom of the stairs she heard whispering and giggling. The noise was strange so she peeked around the doorway. Mummy and Uncle Ned were kissing on the couch, Uncle Ned was on top of Mummy his pants were off. Priss knew only Mummys and Daddys were supposed to do this, but this wasn’t her Daddy, Daddy was at work. She watched as they kissed and tumbled together. Then Mummy looked up directly at Priss, eyes hard and penetrating. She yelped, pushed Uncle Ned off, smoothing her dress down, Uncle Ned looked shocked then saw Priss.

“Give me a minute Ned,” Mummy said.

“What’s going on Mummy? Why are you kissing Uncle Ned?” Priss asked

“Darling, shouldn’t you be asleep?” Mummy asked.

Mummy got up and walked towards her.

“I woke up early, was hungry,” Priss said.

“Come on pet, let Mummy tuck you in,” Mummy said in a voice that was treacly and kind, not like Mummy at all.

Mummy took her hand gripping it hard and lead her up the stairs as a march, it was hard to keep up. They got to the bedroom door

“Mummy you’re hurting me!” Priss said.

Mummy pulled Priss’s arm and knelt down to her, Mummy’s fingernails digging into the tender flesh.

“I’ll hurt you worse if ever tell your father, Priscilla. Never tell Daddy about Uncle Ned’s visits.” Mummy hissed.

“Yes Mummy,” Priss whimpered. “I promise I won’t tell.”

“Good girl,” Mummy said opening the bedroom door and flinging Priss inside.

She closed the door after her, locking it. Priss went back to her bed, hid under the blanket and pretended to sleep until nap time was officially over

~~~~ July 10th,1999~~~~

Priss was the door of the bungalow that her mother lived in, it wasn’t the one she grew up in but the one they moved too after her father died. She took a breath and rang the doorbell. A weary-looking middle-aged female nurse answered the door.

“You’re the daughter then?” Said the nurse.

“Yes,” Priss said.

“Holly!” The nurse shouted into the depths of the house. “Your daughter is here!”

There was nothing at first. They were already in the house going over her mum’s med list, when the sound of a zimmer frame came faintly into the room. Priscilla looked at her mother, she’d seen people dying of cancer before, but now it struck how her Mum seemed to have shrunk, the woman who loomed so large in her mind was shorter, smaller and so much frailer than she’d ever seen, head bald from chemo and eyes sunk deep in her skull.

“Hullo Mum,” Priscilla said and walked over to her.

“Priss dear?” Her mother mumbled looking up at her, with dull drug-addled eyes.

“Yes, I’m here,” Priss said and put a hand on her mother’s.

“Thank goodness, you were always the good one,” Her mum said. “Not like your sister and trash brothers.”

“Yes Mum,” Priss agreed dutifully. She didn’t blame them not one bit.

“Come help me to the sofa, dear,” Her mother said. “I want to watch the telly.”

The home care nurse exchanged a look with Priss.

“Holly you have a television in your room,” said the Nurse.

“Bah,” said Her Mum. “I can see the picture better on this one.”

So Priss helped her mother onto the sofa in the living room into a lying position, covered her with a blanket and turned the television to the right channel and raised the volume to an almost deafening degree.  
The nurse was in the kitchen when Priss entered.

“Want a cuppa?” Said Priss.

“Oh yes, that would be lovely,” said the nurse.

She made a cup of tea for herself and a nurse. They sipped the tea and the nurse complained about Priss’s mother Holly Abbott: stubborn, negative, harsh and selfish. Priss knew it all as she nodded along.

“Well, she is the only Mum, I have,” Priss said.

“I expect it’s just because of her condition,” the nurse nodded. “She must have been different growing up.”

Priss nodded, along knowing it was a lie.

“She was,” Priss said.

~~~~~ October 4th, 1987~~~~~~  
Priscilla was twelve years old and had gotten showered, dressed, breakfast made, and she’d gotten Kate, Jason and Damon awake, fed and ready for school. Mum and Dad were still sleeping. Both her parents had worked the closing shift last night, so they were dead to the world fast asleep. However, Dad liked it when she told them they were going to school. So she popped into their bedroom. Her father was a large hairy man with a shaved head, he wore a tank top and shorts to sleep in.

She nudged him. He opened his eyes and smiled:  
“G’morning luv. Off to school?”

“Yeah,” Priss said with a smile. “Got the brats all ready.”

“C’mere luv, give your old man a hug?” He asked.

She smiled and gave him a hug; he was warm and smelled vaguely of cooking grease. This was the only time she actually saw her Dad, during the day.

“Where’s Mum?” Priss asked.

“Oh her?” Dad said. “She’s off having a smoke.”

Priss nodded.

“Don’t listen to her, luv.” Dad said.

Priss nodded again, and smiled weakly.  
When she came downstairs there was Mum sitting at the kitchen table: dark haired, tall in her robe: a cigarette in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. She squinted at Priss and sniffed.

“Slut.” Her Mum said. “I don’t like what you’re wearing.”

“It’s my school uniform Mum,” Priss said weakly.

“You roll your hem up, don’t you, you tart,” Her Mum said.

“No I don’t,” Priss said, putting her head down.

“Don’t lie to me Priss,” Mum growled and took a drag on her cigarette. “You’re out there whoring it up, I’ve heard what they say!”

Priss looked away, who was saying anything? She hadn’t even kissed a boy yet or held hands. But if people were talking maybe… she looked whorish? Or maybe her mother had her wine before breakfast as always. Priss left, her brothers and sister would be waiting outside the house and they had to walk to school.

~~~September 26th,1999~~~  
Days and months dragged by, her mother Holly Abbott was taking a long time to die. Mostly she just slept in a drug-induced haze and Priss would think about smothering her in her sleep with a pillow but they’d see that far too quickly. Besides this was her Mum, who’d given birth to her, raised her and held her when she cried. She’d hardly heard a word from her old circle and less from Elias, though sometimes she felt his eyes on her just briefly as though the mundane slog that was her routine now was too boring to watch. So she took care of the awful old woman, just waiting like a vulture for her to die.

“Have you heard from Kate yet?” Mum asked one day.

“No.” Priss lied. She’d called her sister in Australia and told her about their Mum and Kate has responded with a curt, ‘good’, then hung up.

“Jason?” Mum asked.

“No,” Another lie. She had talked to Jason for a long time but he had claimed to be too busy with his work, just like their father Jason was a chef working all hours god sent, so it could be true. Jason never faced his problems head-on.

“He was always a good boy, not like Damon,” muttered Mum. “Of course I knew I shouldn’t have slept with that fruit Ned, got me a fruity son, but your Dad didn’t even know Damon wasn’t his.”

And the old bitch laughed harshly.

Priss had finally found Damon and his boyfriend Greg in London. Of course, Damon also wanted NOTHING to do with Mum. She stayed quiet at this.

It would be so easy to change the dosage of one of the myriad pills her Mother was taking just a little more and the old cunt would be dead, she’d done it before so many times and it would be easy death, just drifting off, better then she deserved really.  
Her Mum had fallen asleep again, good. Priss left the room and watched some television.

~~~~~May 17th, 1991~~~~~  
Darren West was two years older than Priss; he was seventeen and she was fifteen. He had a sullen cast to his face, he wouldn’t have caught her notice except for his eyes, he had lovely eyes: large, light with full lashes. He said he loved her, and when he held her and did stuff to her, she felt good. Besides it wasn’t like she could live with her Mum anymore, they were always rowing these days, Mum had some accusation on her lips about Priss: whoring, stealing, lying, and wearing the wrong thing none of them true. Mum was one to talk, Dad had died of a heart attack last year and it was hardly four months after that Mum married that old pervert Sam, who was always leering at Priss and Kate. Darren loved her and let her move in with him and his family: Between working as a waitress and school Priss didn’t have time to do much really. Darren had a bit of a temper, but as long Priss did what he wanted, he didn’t hit her much and it was better than being home.

~~~~~~~~~~October, 20th,1999~~~~~

“What happened to your husband?” Mum asked strangely lucid.

“Darren? You know what happened to him, Mum he died from a seizure,” Priss said.

“Heh, right.” Her Mum muttered sarcastically. “No, I meant Nick, the copper. You were all settled down with him and that little idiot nephew Cartland you seemed happy. I went on holiday to Spain with Sam and Damon, came back to a manhunt.”

“I told you Mum, I don’t know.” Priss lied.

“They found his car but they never found either of them,” Her Mum said. “What did you do Priscilla?”

Her mum’s sunken eyes turned to Priss accusingly.

“Nothin’” Priss said. “I don’t know what happened.”

“You’re lying,” Mum said. “I know you were lying, you got rid of them like you did Darren.”

Priss moved over to the old woman her blood heavy in her ears. There was the morphine drip they had hooked up into the old cunt’s arm. She had a syringe in her hand. She felt Elias watching through her eyes. She bent down and whispered in her mother’s ear.

“I did, you stupid old bitch,” She said. “And there isn’t anything you can do to stop me from killing you.”

Her mother’s eyes were wide with terror and her mouth dropped open. “Get away from me!”

Priss felt her smile widen as her mother flailed about in her bed trying to get up. She grabbed the old woman’s limbs, so fragile, so very breakable, but no. She held the old woman steady and looked into her eyes.

“You thought I was doing this cuz loved you, that’s dumb. If you’d shown me any kind of care or were a proper Mum to me at all. Maybe I’d consider just lettin’ just you die alone.” Priss said.

Elias was watching through her, and she could feel his excitement, his joy at the stark terror on Holly Abbott’s old miserable face.

Priss took one hand covered her Mother’s mouth and with the other, she reached up and pressed the syringe into the drip line, and pressed the plunger down. Her Mother’s eyes closed, moments later her heart stopped. The old bitch was dead.  
Holly Cheryl Abbott had no memorial, and was cremated privately. Her daughter Priscilla was her only mourner. There were however two flower arrangements, one a dull mail order wreath of blooms paid for by her son Jason in Canada. Another arrangement that was a riot of Irises, red Poppies, coral and pink roses from Elias Bouchard signed with deepest sympathy.

[ ](https://ibb.co/1Rs6XVs)  
[upload a pic](https://imgbb.com/)  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out: http://thelanguageofflowers.com/ for what the flower arrangement means


	10. Hullo, Sailor! (part 1)

~~~~~February 12, 2000~~~~~

Priss stood in the foyer of Elias and Peter’s shared flat, she was wearing her best little black cocktail dress (a present from Elias) with some very choice lingerie and heels underneath. Her hair was up in a simple bun which was easy to take down. She had a small suitcase already packed. She was going to meet Peter this weekend, what’s more, if everything went as arranged, she was going to fuck both Elias and Peter. The thing is, she hadn’t seen Peter Lukas since the gala in 1996. Elias’s life with him was totally separate from the time he spent with her which was made in the spaces in between his work and Peter. However, Elias had arranged this with both of them as an apparent Valentine’s gift to Peter. She’d agreed because Elias wanted it and she was curious to see what Peter was like in bed, so she agreed. Peter though, who knew why he agreed, probably to please Elias.  
The flat was as elegant and tasteful as she supposed it would be, in truth she’d never been there before. They’d meet up in hotels, his office or now the bungalow she inherited. Elias had answered the door when she knocked all smiles, charm and perhaps a bit nervous? He’d handed her glass of white wine and told her to wait.  
So she did, as the minutes ticked away on the hallway clock she sipped her wine and waited.

She heard talking through the crack in a hallway, it sounded tense. She inched closer and tilted her head to hear better, she couldn’t see in though.

“I’m not sure about this Elias,” said Peter said. “This is a very personal part of our life, I’m not sure I want another person in.”

“Come on Peter, you agreed to this,” Elias said. “You’ll enjoy Priss, she really enjoys serving ones like us, besides she’s the best bit of cunny I’ve had in nearly 200 years after Harriette Wilson and two of her sisters.”

“I don’t get the reference,” Peter said. “And while you’re apparently as good judge of these things, I don’t know if I feel entirely comfortable with this.”

“Don’t be coy darling, I know you enjoy women as well,” Elias said. “Didn’t you used have darling Junko in Tokyo?… before she succumbed to your realm and wandered into Aokigahara never to return. And who could forget Siobhan of Inis Mór… she loved you so much she put rocks in her pockets and waded in the ocean… “

“Errrmm, while both of them were I suppose, mistresses of mine, it was before I met you and I didn’t have both of them at once,” Peter said. “I’ve never done this before….”

“Don’t worry dear,” Elias said. “Priss has ways of making one feel so relaxed. Trust me, I will be here to guide you.”

“Well, alright, I guess if you’ll be there, I’ll be alright,” Peter said.

“Excellent!” Elias declared. “I’ll go get her.”

There was the sound of kissing. The door opened a crack and Elias walked in, he was wearing a red silk robe and carrying a glass of white wine.

“Is everything alright?” Priss asked.

“Yes, it is all sorted Priss, follow me,’ Elias said gestured the to door.

She walked into a dimly lit and large living room. She scanned her surroundings, other than very nice furnishings and a free standing bar, there was no else there but Elias. She felt a bit cold though and couldn’t help but notice a bit of fog maybe it had drifted in from an open window.

“Where’s Peter?” She asked.

“Standing right behind you,” Peter said in her ear.

She jumped and swore. Peter emerged from the fog behind her with a chuckle

“Oh fuck! You scared me!” She squeaked.

Elias was laughing and smiling, she took a swig of her wine and began to laugh as well.

She looked at Peter, really looked at him. He was big in every way, almost the same height as Salesa, well-muscled, but so pale, he was also in a robe, a blue terrycloth one. He was smiling, but it was a sad smile that never reached his eyes. He shyly extended his massive hand to hers, she took it and shook it awkwardly, there was a chill to his skin, he withdrew his hand. She wondered briefly what he’d look like naked, if he’d be that cold inside of her, she wanted him cold inside of her. She took another swig of wine.  
He was watching her, eyes silently appraising her.

“Elias you were right, you do have a nice figure,” Peter said finally with the same smile.

Priss looked up at him from under her lashes and blushed. “You’re not so bad yourself, Captain.”

Peter surprised her by coloring a bit, the blush stark against his pale skin, and looking away. “T-thank you.”

“So wonderful to see the both of you getting along,” Elias interjected. “Are we ready?”

Priss finished her glass of wine, she was feeling slightly buzzed as she looked at both of them. Peter towered over Elias, but Elias had more delicate finer features. There they were known and unknown. She grinned, she was ready to venture into the unknown, embrace it even.

“Yeah, I’ll change into my robe,” She said.

“Good,” Elias said. “We’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

Peter held up his hand. “I think I need a glass of my Talisker before I can start, I’m not quite as ready for debauchery as you two are.”

Elias rolled his eyes: “Very well Peter.”

Elias directed her to the bedroom and watched her take down her hair, change from little black dress to into her black lingerie. He walked over to her and ran his hands over her face and body.

“You won’t disappoint me, will you?” He said holding her gaze intently.

She felt his eyes bore into her.

“No, of course not, your Peter is… impressive,” Priss said.

Elias grinned and chuckled: “You don’t know the half of it. However, he can be pretty naive. His prized Talisker Scotch? He thinks I pay full whack for it, but for the past couple of years, I’ve been paying an airline pilot to steal it for me. I pocket the difference.”

She smiled and sat on the bed. “Anything else?”

“Well, Peter isn’t the most generous or considerate of lovers,” Elias said in a careful diplomatic tone. “It’s not to some people’s taste. However, it has been a good two decades since he’s been with a female lover of your ability. You will do your best, for me, won't you?”

“I thought I’d have both of you,” Priss said, a bit confused.

“Oh you will, I thought it best for Peter to get a solo sampling of your talents first,” Elias said. “….just a warning, he’s not into foreplay.”

Peter walked in the room, he was holding a nearly empty tumbler containing the dregs of scotch. He looked to Priss and Elias, then he gulped down the rest of the tumbler.  
He blinked, looked at Priss sitting on the bed, and smiled wickedly.

“Right, let’s do this,” He said with determination. “Elias….?”

Elias was sitting in an armchair across from the bed. “I’ll let you have the first bite.”

Peter laughed: “Very well.”

Peter’s eyes twinkled at this as he reached under his robe and began to stroke himself to full hardness. Priss crawled over to him and reached out, Peter swatted her hand away. He took off his robe revealing that he was hairy, pale, muscular and his cock was monstrous, she wondered if it would even fit inside of her. She gulped and removed her lingerie. Elias was smiling at them in an amused fashion, he had a cigarette lit.   
Peter took her in his large cold hands and positioned her at the edge of the bed, holding her legs up and apart. She squealed when he shoved into her, he filled her utterly and she could feel him rubbing against her walls as he pumped furiously into her over and over again. She could feel him inside of her, cold, massive and the emptiness, the loneliness. It filled her as he did, he was working just for his own pleasure, he made hardly any noise, just small grunts of effort. It felt like a relentless train of cold anger, and it felt…it felt not bad but not ….amazing. She saw Elias frown from the chair. She had to do better. She began to push back against the massive cock to roll her hips in time with his brutal pace. She looked up and saw surprise in Peter’s eyes. She squeezed down hard on him as she rode his cock. Took a free hand and began to rub her own clit, letting herself get lost in the sensations of being utterly filled, the pleasure it brought as she pushed against him. His face was changing eyes going dull as she twisted and shook her hips as she rocked him. She squeezed rhythmically rocking her hips back against his.

“Uhhhh… nnnn… nooo it’s not….” Peter stuttered out.

“You want me to stop luv?” She purred and stopped moving.

“….No…” Peter said. “Keep…going..just....”

She did, wrapping her legs around him bringing him closer and deeper inside of her, the coldness filled her as he did. She shuddered and he stammered out something. She squeezed him as she rode him, grinding against his cock. Until he was crying out until there were tears in his eyes and gasping for air, he came and she kept squeezing him, until he growled and withdrew, the monstrous thing between his legs soft and dribbling.

She looked over at Elias who was naked now, his own, considerably less frightening, cock hard in hand.

As Peter collapsed beside her on the bed Elias stepped up.

“Didn’t I tell you Peter, I was right about her,” Elias said. “

Peter just googled dully at him utterly spent and then nodded.

Elias turned to her and said: “You didn’t come did you Priss?”

“No, I didn’t,” Priss said. She was tired and felt as if she’d been hollowed out but was still frustratingly aroused.

“Allow me,” Elias said with a grin.

Elias began with a kiss, then moved down to her breasts, licking and nipping at her, lower and lower until…

Priss stuttered and moaned when he began to lick and suck at her most tender parts. She could feel the pleasure start to build and build as he slid a finger inside and began to stroke her inner walls, right at the g-spot it was almost too much, she was so close.  
Then he removed his finger, running it down her belly and he plunged his cock into her. She could feel him slamming against that spot as he thrust and thrust and thrust and thrust, rutting against that spot. it was too much and she screamed out his name as her whole body shook and she came hard.

“One of you finish me off,” Elias said withdrawing his cock almost sounding bored.

Priss looked and Peter and Peter looked at her, both of them turned their eyes to Elias, who was pouting and unsatisfied, they began to laugh. Peter took Elias by the shoulders, they kissed as Peter put one hand around Elias’s shaft and Priss crawled over and wrapped her lips around the head Elias’s cock. She licked and sucked as Peter stroked. Soon Elias was panting, moaning and coming hard into her mouth thick and salty. 

After they cleaned off in the massive open stall shower in the master bathroom. They finished off the half bottle of white wine, while talking about nothing. They were laughing about something, maybe nothing Priss was sitting in-between both of them on the couch. She kissed Elias and then she turned and kissed Peter. Elias and Peter then kissed, over her long, lingering tender. They kissed, again and again, Peter wrapping arms around Elias and squeezing her out of the embrace. She watched from the sidelines for a moment, feeling a flicker of misery. Then with a smile, she marched up and slapped Peter’s arse. He startled and she slipped in. Elias’s eyes twinkled wickedly and she folded him into her arms kissing him fiercely. Peter put his arms around both of them, his mouth nuzzling her neck, his hands on Elias’s backside.

They continued like this, tumbling back into the bedroom and onto the bed. All three of them moving together. Somehow, they ended up on either side of Elias again. She felt wine addled and her senses were tingly, when he took her hand to his mouth and began to kiss and nibble then he bit down hard, it felt better then she expected, when he pulled back she saw he open wound and blood on his lips, she kissed him tasting the blood, tasting him, nipping at his lips. He drew back as Peter put his hand on Elias's shoulder and began to nuzzle his neck. Elias put his arms around Priss’s waist.

“Turn around. And spread open your legs.” He whispered.

She did and felt him slip into her. Then he gasped as Peter slid into him and they moved as one in the bed Elias was biting her shoulder as Peter pounded into him and she was bracing herself against the mattress as Elias fucked her. Moving together feeling together, she could feel it building inside of her as he worked her body, his mouth on her other shoulder, his hands on her breasts. She felt the waves of bliss rippling through her, over and over she came and he kept going, bringing her into another orgasm, then he came biting harder into her flesh and digging his nails into her breasts, and finally, there was an indrawn breath that meant Peter had cum as well and soon exhausted they fell asleep like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harriette Wilson, was a regency courtesan.


	11. Hullo sailor! (part 2)

~~~~~ February 12-13 2000 part 2 ~~~~~~~  
She woke up groggy and with a cramp in her neck. Elias had of course taken up all the bed, but there was the smell of cooking sausage. She stretched and got up, lured out of bed by the smell. She put on her long discarded robe Peter was in the kitchen, sipping coffee and watching a pan of eggs and sausage sizzle on the stove a plate of toast on a nearby counter.

“Oh Hullo,” He said not even looking at her.

“Good morning,” she muttered. She looked around the strange kitchen all grey metal and unfamiliar cabinets for anything resembling a kettle or tea. However there was pot of coffee and two mugs nearby.

She poured a cup, Elias took his coffee black and so apparently did Peter. She did not, she drank it anyways.

“I’m sorry but Chef has the weekend and I thought I’d get an early start, Alone.” Peter said emphasizing the last word.

He looked cold and dangerous, maybe too dangerous for now.

“Right I’m sorry Peter,” She said quietly

She grabbed a slice of toast and backed out of the kitchen. So much for that, she nibbled at the toast on the sofa, sipped her coffee and watched the sunrise through the flat’s large windows.

She showered, did her hair, put on her makeup and waited, as the clock ticked. By the time she was done, Elias was awake, she could hear Peter and him chatting in the kitchen.

“… You see Peter this why it’s a gift, you really have to open up and try new things. You’ve only seen a tiny part of what she can do trust me you won’t be disappointed…”

“Yes last night was good, but I’m not sure I can handle an entire weekend.” Peter was saying. “Anyhow Valentine’s day is actually on Monday Elias.”

She heard the newspaper rustle.

“I have to work on Monday, “ Elias said with finality.

“Of course your precious institute how could they get along without you?” Peter remarked.

“Not all of us have the luxury of being idle rich, Peter,” Elias quipped

And the paper rustled some more.

Priss stepped into the room. They were both sitting at the table the remains of a full English breakfast between them and they were both reading the paper casually. A picture of domestic comfort.

Elias smiled at her, Peter did not.  
“I saved you the crosswords,” Elias said pushing over a section of his paper towards her.  
“There is a pen around here somewhere. Ah yes, I know where it is. “

He got up and Peter raised his section of the paper over his face, ignoring her.

“Hmm,” She said.

“What?” He asked.

“I know you aren’t comfortable with this, I know how Elias can be, but if there is anything you want from me….. tell me.” She offered.

“…what I want?” Peter thought for a bit then the paper lowered. “I will admit I was impressed by your…skills. Not many people can handle me.”

“What else do you want me to do, Captain Lukas?” She asked, there was a spark in his eyes when she called him this.

Peter put down the paper and got to his feet, he walked over to her, his cold gaze raking over her body. He was close and she felt the chill coming off him. He took his great, cool hand and wrapped it around her face. His hands were rough and cold, like he’d been sitting in an air-conditioned room alone, for a while.

“You know I’ve never had a proper blow job,” He mused. “Elias does his best but even he can’t take all of me in his mouth.”

He was running a chill finger over her lips.  
Priss didn’t look at him, the idea scared her slightly, but more than that the idea sent sparks of excitement down her spine to her groin. She looked up meeting his gaze and taking one finger in her mouth and sucking at it until it was warmed by the heat of her body. He withdrew the finger.

“I’ll do my best Captain,” She said.

Peter smiled faintly.

“Would you be so good as to demonstrate for Peter?” Elias said.

He was standing behind her, holding the pen. He smiled wider and dropped to her knees in front of Peter and looked up at him.  
He undid the sash of his bathrobe, he was already hard underneath. She began with the head licking and sucking, tapping out a rhythm with her tongue, and working the shaft with her hands, like the rest of his skin it was cold to the touch. She opened her mouth and straining managed to get a good portion of him inside her using her tongue and sucking hard. He gave a small bitten off sound and pushed deeper into her mouth and throat. She breathed through her nose and let him. He began to thrust into her mouth working towards his own pleasure and she let him. It was hard not to gag but she took more of him and let him thrust into her cheek and throat. He kept going and she kept breathing through her nose and let him fill until finally he came spurting down her throat. She pulled back and sputtering and looked up. He smiled down at her and gave her a pat on the head and walked away.

She looked up dazed to see Elias smirking at her.

“You want a turn, darling?” She asked.

“I think I’ll let you recover a bit before that,” He said watching her wobble to her feet and make her way to the sink for a glass of water, he watched her drink it his eyes seemed on focus on the motion of her swallowing.

She looked away for a moment, his intensity sometimes got to her. She glanced back and he was by her side, causing her to jump in shock. He began to walk to the bedroom and looked back indicating she should follow him. Peter was already laying on the bed when they approached. Elias removed his robe, lay on the bed and kissed Peter. Elias planted rows of kisses down her body, moaning into her skin when Peter took him in his mouth. Elias found her snatch and she sighed as he began to lick at her, long slow strokes with his tongue interspersed with sucking at her clit. It felt amazing and when she finally came it started a chain reaction.  
After they got out the wine and the scotch and shared a drink to wash to taste from their mouths.  
Soon she found herself between them, Peter behind her, filling her totally, pounding into her relentlessly, while Elias took her mouth. She arched her back as far as she could trying to please both, as they kissed over her body. Priss could feel them syncing up their rhythm unconsciously, each thrust into her felt earth-shattering, as they pounded into her.  
Then it was more drinks and they slipped into the shower and they washed each other with sponges and tongues, every inch of skin got her attention. She watched as Peter began to melt his shoulders relaxing, and his body slumping, due to the booze and physical contact, Elias smiled at her, she was doing so well.  
She dried off and moved into the bedroom, Elias and Peter followed teasing each other with soft smacks and kisses. There was something so warm in their eyes when they looked at each other, none of that warmth when their gaze was turned on her. That was the way it should be after all she was just human and they were demi-gods. She sprawled out on the bed, knees up over the edge, and Elias got in between sliding in with comfortable ease. It felt so good to have him there, filling her pumping into her. He made a soft grunt when Peter slid into him. Elias drove into her and she felt every inch, pleasure building inside of her, as he thrust and his eyes bored into her. She closed her own eyes, feeling him, rocking her hips and grinding into him. This session didn’t last too long, it was too much for Elias apparently who came with a drawn out curse as Peter drove into him and she squeezed him. She milked his cock with her snatch and Peter kept going, trying to reach his own orgasm, until Elias was slumped and his eyes dull from sensation.  
They drank more as they recovered, and made their way to the shower again. After she watched them, fully recovered, kiss and Peter went down on his knees and took Elias in his mouth, she touched herself as once again Peter took Elias in his mouth, giving attention and skill not even she had as he worked. Elias dug his hands into Peter’s mop of hair, when he came, he almost screamed and his eyes rolled back into his head. She wondered if she could ever get that good at pleasing him, but when Elias’s gaze came to focus on her in the chair, masturbating, he smiled and offered a hand. She came twice around his curled fingers. They drank more, Peter was feeling so generous he let her try the scotch, it was smokey, smooth and oddly sweet. It went down easy. She was between them again, everyone was kissing and it smelled like sweat, sex and booze. Elias was in her ass, every thrust felt like gold, like bliss and Peter’s monstrous cock was in her snatch, filling her with cold and sensation. She came hard over and over and over again, crying and screaming until they were done.  
When they rested and Elias and Peter snuggled close, with her on Elias’ other side. They looked at each other with such intensity, such sweetness, Peter was stroking Elias’ face and Elias had a hand tangled in Peter’s beard. She watched and felt cold and alone. She was ordered off the bed. Peter had gotten himself to full hardness and Elias rode him, taking more of that massive cock than she would think possible inside of him. She watched he rode it until Peter came grunting, Elias looked dull-eyed and pleasure soaked and she dutifully sat on Peter’s knees and sucked him off. She swallowed every last hot drop as he held her head down and her mouth steady on his cock. That lead to yet another round in the shower.   
They fucked in every possible way, until they were too sore, tired and to move an inch and lay in a literal heap on the bed, wine and cum drunk.   
Finally, it was Sunday evening and waking up aching in every part of her body, she found herself in the darkened bedroom, cold and alone on the colossal bed. She stretched and got to her feet. She found her robe on the floor and walked out of the bedroom. Elias and Peter were sitting on the sofa, curled around each other, talking quietly. She couldn’t hear what they were saying. Then Elias looked up and directly at her. He smiled like the cat who got the cream and she felt so utterly forlorn like she was looking into a well-lit window and watching them canoodle and love each other. He said something to Peter and got up and walked to her.

“Thank you so much, Priss, I really appreciate you taking time out to do this for us,” He said.

She smiled bemusedly. “You’re welcome, luv.”

“Now, I’m sure you have something to get back to. Don’t worry I’ll pay your cab fare.” He said.

“Ta,” She said.

There was a pause.

“I’ve already called the cab, you should get dressed Priss and leave.” He said and his voice was cold as ice.

“Right,” She replied. “When will I see you again?”

“Honestly? I don’t know, I’m very busy, and I have my darling Peter to keep me company.” He said with no hint of sadness or remorse.

He handed the money for the cab and walked away back to Peter.

She went back into the bedroom, got dressed, gathered her bag and left. Glancing back to see them, resting against each other both were reading something, looking so comfortable and loving. She waited outside it was raining softly, cold and damp. She smoked a cigarette. The cab came and took her away. She tried not to think too much about it. She’d be there for him, when he needed her and now he simply did not need her. That was that.


	12. I'm mr. Loverman, and I miss my lover man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to ianmbr3 on the discord of the idea of Elias framing the the guardian article.

**~~~~~~~~ June 10th, 2003.~~~~~~~**

Priss had been seeing Elias sporadically for the past three years, five months would go by and she would not hear anything from him, then there’d be a call or a letter or just the feeling of him looking out through her eyes. She was busy besides: her job, the renovations on the bungalow and her other lovers from the shadow world. A part of her was always on alert, craving him, waiting for his beck and call. Sometimes he’d share her with Peter, she suspected whenever their love life got boring, they wanted her to add a spark, but she preferred when it was just Elias. 

It was late at night near midnight and she’d been on-call for the past week, and was run ragged. She sat in the living room of the bungalow on the sofa watching telly, not really paying attention drifting in and out of sleep. That was when the doorbell rang long drawn out and repeatedly. She got to her feet, wondering hazily who in their right mind would be bothering her at this hour. She opened the door, and saw Elias Bouchard standing there. She smiled at him, then looked again. He was slouching for one, unshaven, his eyes blood-shot heavy and his suit looked rumpled, this wasn’t right. Also there was a bottle of scotch in his right hand, he reeked of it, she’d never seen him this drunk.

“Bloody Peter kicked me out,” He muttered. “Changed the locks too, the cunt.”

“You need a place to stay, luv?” She said kindly.

“-‘es,…. stupid Peter..” Elias grumbled and stepped into the house he took a swig from the bottle.

She grabbed a suitcase, he’d left by the door and noticed there was taxi idling on the curb. She took the suitcase in and got her purse, she paid the cabbie.

She returned to find Elias sitting on the sofa, blearily glaring at the television and smoking one of her cigarettes.

“What happened dear?” She asked, sitting down next to him.

He turned and glared at her, stubbed out the cigarette and took another belt from the bottle.

“Peter’s … damned … dumb.. ritual failed…. he’s acting like a child,” Elias grumbled. “Big stupid moron.”

“Oh?” She didn’t want to push but she was worried, she’d never seen him look this bad.

“Fucking Peter… b-b-blames me, ‘is not fair, ‘you employe her, Elias…’” He said, doing a mocking voice. “Fought over it, big dumb ass.”

“Employ who, dear?” She asked and put her arm around him.

He slumped into Priss and drunkenly nuzzled her side.

“Gertrude, ‘is not my fault! I didn’t tell her!…. Rituals fail all the time…b-bloody dah-dumb … st-s-stupid… awful…” Elias said, his voice breaking into a sob.

She held him and he cried, HE was crying? He wasn’t supposed to do that, but she’d comforted people before and just held tighter and whispered sweet things.

“Peter Lukas is a fucking sore loser, and I took his scotch. I gave him…the damned stuff so it’s mine r-r-really…” He choked out. He took another belt then gulped “I feel sick.”

He got up and ran for …. The kitchen sink, he was vomiting into it. She cringed, she was too tired for this.She got to her feet, she had to help, to take care of him. She found him sitting on the floor of the kitchen under the sink. He looked pathetic, utterly lost and miserable, vomit staining his rumpled suit.

She bent down and took his unresisting arm and slung it over her shoulder. “Come on darling, let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.”

“Right… of course, yes …. Priss.” He said.

She ran a bath: stripped him and put him into it. He moaned slightly at the feeling of the water and seemed to go utterly limp. Priss got the washcloth and set about getting him clean, she’d done this before but it was more mutual and she’d done little sexy touches. But now he was in no state for that, and he was actually dirty. So she just washed him like he was a patient, trying to make sure he didn’t fall into the water, he was utterly plastered and she was sure he’d drown if she wasn’t there. She got him out and dried him off. He didn’t talk at all at this point, too drunk. She was almost done when he wandered over to her bed of his own accord and laid down, getting comfortable and soon was fast asleep. She sighed and tucked herself into a corner of the bed that was unoccupied.

She was in the morning awake before him for once, at least if he was awake he didn’t seem to make any motion to leave the bed or do anything. She got up, made some tea, cleaned the sink and floor, ate a bowl of cereal. She’d cook for him, but he hadn’t indicated he wanted anything at all. When she went back in the bedroom, he was still lying in bed, same as she left him. He did groan when she opened her closet to get her clothing.

“You awake dear?” She asked

He responded by looking away, muttering something unintelligible and putting a pillow over his face.

She got dressed as quiet as as she could, she left the door open a crack, not enough to let light in, but enough so she could hear him. He wouldn’t kill himself would he? No, the iron he had in his soul wouldn’t let him, his grand plans whatever they were, wouldn’t let him. For now though he needed a place to recover, lick his wounds so to speak, and she would help. In a way it was an honor that he even let her see him like this. She thought as went about her daily chores and tried to keep the radio low.

She went back to check in at noon and saw he was sitting up, propped against pillows, eyes open wide staring into nothing.

“I can’t see him, Priss,” He said. “I can’t see Peter, he’s shrouded himself in a mist of The Lonely.”

“That’s to bad darling,” She said in calm neutral voice. “Do you want anything to eat?”

He laughed mirthlessly. “I’m not hungry Priss, but I suppose… I will eventually need …food.”

“I’ll make you something in case you get hungry luv,” She said.

He blinked at her once, then went back to staring into nothing. “I still can’t see him, but I know he’s in there.”

“Right darling,” She said calmly.

She made some beans on toast, he’d eat that right? She left it on the nightstand beside him with a glass of water. She had some more shopping to do, and some errands to run but when she got back the plate and glass were on the nightstand empty, but it looked like he hadn’t moved at all.

She went to take the plate, cutlery and empty glass from the nightstand and he grabbed her wrist.

“I need you,” He growled.

She let him pull her into bed and kiss her sloppily. He pulled back the covers, he was naked and he was only half hard, she had used to mouth and hands to get him fully erect but it took longer than she thought it would despite he best effort, she climbed on top in the end, the sex was dismissal. Other than his inconsistent erection, there was no indication he was aware of this and just lay there still. She pressed on, doing her best, but it was like fucking a corpse. Finally he groaned and shoved her off, neither of them had come and the tang of sex had been added to stale air. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “We’ll try again later, I suppose you are still pretty hungover from last night.”

He blinked at her sullenly.

“I don’t get hangovers, Priss.” He said. “Usually.”

“Right,” She said in as neutral a tone as she could manage.

She took the dishes from the nightstand and washed them. She went back to the bedroom to check on him and found he’d put on some pants, and was sitting on top of the duvet not under it. He was staring into nothing though, she went to leave the room and his eyes fixed on hers.

“Priss?” He asked. “Get my mobile and cigarettes.”

“Do you want anything for lunch?” She asked.

“Yes, a gin and tonic,” He said. “You know the way I like them.”

She had bought his brand of cigarettes on her errand, she found his mobile phone in a pocket of his jacket. She made the g&t, it was a pain he didn’t like lime but rather orange bitters and a spiraling orange peel as garnish. She’d seen him send them back three times, when the bartender couldn’t get them right. She placed all the items along with an ashtray on a breakfast tray and walked back in the room.

“Here ya go,” She placed it on the bed.

“Thank you, Priss.” He said and for moment he almost sounded normal.

He picked up his mobile, made a call, then lit a cigarette waiting for an answer, took a drag, waited, his brow furrowed and then he waited and smoked more and waited until… he lowered his eyes, frowned and sighed. He looked dejected, and put the phone down and finished smoking his cigarette.

“Is there…anything else you need?” She asked.

Irritation flashed over his face.

“No. Hmmmm Peter isn’t answering, I know he can get calls in the lonely. He’s being a stubborn ass...” He said with a touch of real pain in his voice. “He can least answer me,… “

“I’m sorry dear,” Priss said and sat down the bed next to him and put an arm on his shoulder.

He sipped the cocktail and looked at her. “Next time, Priss not so much pith on the peel.”

“You want me to make you a new one, Elias?” She asked.

“No. This is acceptable for now,” He said, taking another long sip.

His hand went up to her hair and he began idly running his fingers through it. He sipped his drink, ran his fingers through her hair and she held him as he stared into the ether. She wondered was he aware of her body holding him? Her skin, her warmth, her heart beat or his own or was he simply lost looking out into the swirling mists that shrouded his Peter? Perhaps he was, he’d finished his drink and leaned into her, his head resting on her breast. She could hear the clock in the hallway ticking away and their breathing that was it. He was miserable and he needed her. He picked up his mobile again and skimmed through the contacts. He called someone:

“I won’t be in on Monday, I have some personal matters to deal with—“

“….”

“…you will handle my managerial duties for now.”

“…”

“— When I will I be back? I… well…I will be back but it could be…sometime...”

  
  


“….”

“No, I’m sure you’ll do well, do inform those who need to know….”

“….”

  
  


“Yes, I’ll text the passwords… don’t call again. I won’t answer.”

Talking to his assistant he sounded like himself again and he was sitting up straighter, but then when the call ended, he slouched, shoulders relaxing, sighing, slumping into her body. She put her other arm around him as he texted the number. He smoked more cigarettes, stared off into nothing, hands in her hair, there but not present. Her legs were beginning to fall asleep. She wiggled a bit, stretching.

He looked up at her, squinting not seeing her.

“Elias? Do you need anything? I have to get some lunch for myself.” She said.

“Another drink, stronger this time,” He sighed. “And some of that weed I left here last time.”

She got up leaving him with a kiss.

She made the new g&t, and ground up the weed, rolled it into five joints. She delivered them to him, and he spent the day in a stupor, laying her bed not moving, occasionally calling Peter on his mobile, always staring in the dim room. She checked on him every two hours or so, he hadn’t moved or done much and he didn’t need her much, except to refresh his drink. When night rolled around, she checked on him, he was still lying there staring but his eyes shifted in her direction when she opened the door

“I’m going to sleep luv, do you need anything?” She asked, peeking in through the cracked door.

“Mmmmmm,” He groaned. “Don’t sleep on the couch, stay here next to me.”

“Alright, darling,” She said.

She knew for a fact that Peter and him had separate bedrooms and rarely spent the night in the same bed. However, he was hurting and he needed her here. So she showered and changed into her peach silk camisole. He watched her and she saw a flicker of lust in his eyes. She smiled faintly.

She lay down on the bed, she looked at him and nodded he rolled on top of her and they had sex. She wrapped her legs around him and ground into him, but it was little better than last time… at least he was moving his time, but he was just working for his own orgasm and giving no thought to her pleasure. Well, considering his state of mind, maybe this was good just a little release for him. He’d be back to himself eventually. He came with a groan, rolled off her and pulled the covers over himself. She got up, showered again, when she returned he was asleep in his normal position and she contented herself with a small unused corner of the bed.

It went on like this for four days before she could convince him to let her give him a shower and change the bedding. It was a fortnight before he left her bed and went back to work, everyone could tell, because the usual care he took with his appearance was gone. Since Peter had changed the locks, he would return every night to her bungalow. He’d smoke or drink himself insensible spend the night between bouts of silent staring, mediocre sex and drugged sleep.

Priss had the day off when the phone rang, the caller ID said Magnus Institute, a list of terrifying scenarios flashed through her head, as she answered.

“Hello Nurse Abbott,” It was Gertrude. Priscilla was so angry she almost hung up.

“What do you want?” Priss demanded

“I heard he went to lick his wounds at your place, he’s not so grand now that you have to clean up after him is he?” Gertrude said.

“That’s none of your business,” Priss growled. “You ruined things between him and Peter.”

“I will admit, I made sure Peter Lukas’s ritual failed, it was easy, I simply called the paper,” Gertrude said. “I’m not the one who framed a copy of the article and put in their office.”

“What?” Priss asked.

“Oh, Elias didn’t tell you that, did he?’ Gertrude said sweetly. “He was insufferable about Peter’s ritual failing. I can almost sympathize with Peter for that, I mean Elias’s name isn’t on the lease of their flat.”

“Oh…” Priss felt something deflate inside, jus how long was he going to stay with her?

“Well, I’m quite proud of myself really, two birds with one stone,” Gertrude said. “I never would have guessed, Elias felt anything near enough for Peter, to be effected by it as well.”

“He’s your boss, and if he —“ Priss began.

“What do you think he’s gonna do to you after? Do you think he’s gonna let someone who saw such a state, live? “ Gertrude asked. “I’m surprised you are so loyal to someone who obviously has such little regard for you. Especially after he sabotaged things between you and Salesa.”

Priss gave a frustrated groan: “You don’t get it, he needs me, and now he needs me more than ever. I’m not going to turn on him, I’m not giving you a statement, you dried up old bitch.”

“Tch, more fool than I,” Gertrude said. “I know people in the police dear, I could have someone look into patient deaths under your care…”

“…You have no solid evidence, “ Priss said triumphantly.

Gertrude sighed. “You will come in someday dear, and give your statement, It’s a matter of time before Elias cuts you loose.”

“Fuck you,” Priss said and hung up.

She didn’t tell Elias about the phone call when he came back from work. If he already knew he didn’t say anything, and it didn’t it was better. Going back to work had made an improvement, he was now showering by himself, shaving and had allowed her to wash and press his suits. She liked doing that, it felt good: mundane, domestic, caring and homey. It was the least she could do. She was doing this, humming to herself when she looked up and he was standing there in his silk robe, lit cigarette in hand staring at her.

“Elias luv, can I get you anything, you want a cocktail?” She asked.

“Yes a brompton cocktail if you please,” He said deadpan.

She raised an eyebrow and smiled, he smiled. “No really, dear.”

He took a drag off the cigarette, and regarded her as she ironed. “A g&t but don’t hurry, Priss, I’ll be in the bedroom.”

He walked back into the bedroom, smoke trailing from the lit cigarette. When she finished the ironing, she made the drink. She was getting good at it, he hadn’t said anything about her method for a week. He was sitting up in the bed staring into the darkness, not looking at that but beyond out into some swirling cold mists. His cigarette burning in the ashtray. She put the drink on the nightstand. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, she let him pull her on to the bed. He looked at her, she at him and knew exactly what he wanted. So she let him push her head down to his waist. She pushed back the robe with a happy sigh, and got to work. He moaned, ran his fingers through her hair as she licked the head of his cock and sucked the shaft, tight and wet. She held up her fingers giving them a wiggle he shook his head, no. She went back to sucking hard and tight. He thrust into her mouth putting his whole length in, over and over again. She felt herself start to choke, but took a breath through her nose and stopped. So that was his game? He was holding her head down pumping into her mouth hard. It seemed like it went on forever, but she stuck with it, not that he allowed her to let up or come up for air. She held up her fingers again, looking up, at him and seeing his nod and grin was relief. She was allowed to stop and moisten her fingers, before sliding them into him. As she stroked away inside him, his thrusts became more aggressive and erratic, until with an almost triumphant ‘YES!’ He came thickly into her mouth, she swallowed. She knew now she had too. Brought her head up and smiled. He didn’t look at her, his eyes had gone distant and he was back searching in the swirling mists.

She left, washed, made a g&t and drank it. The alcohol soothed and numbed her and she crawled into the corner of her bed with him.

The next day, she got up and began to get ready for work, she found herself humming a bit, soon he’d be getting ready for work. However he wasn’t moving, he was just lying there like a fresh corpse, staring.

“Darling don’t you have to get to the institute?” She asked in mild tone.

His gaze slid over her and he scowled. “Not going in today, call my secretary.”

This wasn’t good, something had changed, something had happened in the early hours of the morning.

She went over to the bed and asked. “Why?”

She watched his eyes fill with tears, actual, real tears, this was very bad. “I finally saw Peter, he was boarding his boat… he won’t be near England for months… he’s gone, Priss. I can’t— why is this… it’s not supposed to… matter but he’s gone… he’s gone…I’m not supposed feel like this, it SS-sh-shouldn’t matter… but he’s gone.”

She sat on the bed and held him let him bury his damp face in her chest and silently cry. She said nothing, she didn’t move just let him hold her and waited until he was done. When he finally released her she called the institute and the hospital. She wasn’t on call and she had a few co-workers who owed her favors. 

She spent the day in the darkness beside him, as he cried, and held her, and stared into nothing, they made love twice, slow and gentle. Just as she was beginning to think it would get better, this happened.

[](https://ibb.co/16jr0cm)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is a brompton cocktail? 
> 
> noun: Brompton cocktail; plural noun: Brompton cocktails
> 
> a powerful painkiller and sedative consisting of vodka or other liquor laced with morphine and sometimes also cocaine.
> 
> Origin  
> 1960s: said to be from the name of Brompton Hospital, London, where the mixture was invented for cancer patients.  
> 


	13. Not so proud now.

~~~September 13th 2003~~~~~

It had been three months since Peter had left, Elias had improved a little, he was back at work and taking care of himself a bit more. The first two months were hard, he wasn’t himself, he was barely functioning. Priss knew that was when he needed her the most. Things began to change in the third month. He was seeming more normal, his eyes got their spark back, and he was looking for a new flat for himself. Yes, he still spent hours looking into nothing trying to see Peter, but it was getting less frequent. Maybe whatever hold Peter had on him was going away. Priss hoped so, although the fact he’d come to her during this and relied on her, was a high compliment, she really was exhausted by having to take care of him so much. This morning she was up before him, she was in the shower (she had a freestanding tub and separate shower because she liked it that way), humming as she scrubbed and lathered, she felt his eyes on her and turned and heard a tap on the stall door. Elias was standing there, grinning at her, naked of course. She gave him a cheeky look and opened the stall door. He entered and immediately began to kiss up the line of her spine, up to the back of her neck She melted into his touch, this was good, it felt good, and it meant he was back to himself. She felt his hands on her breasts and moaned as his fingers circled her nipples, caressing and pinching, it was amazing. She knew exactly what he wanted, oh she wanted it too. So she bent over bracing against the stall wall. His hands were on her hips, he entered her with a satisfied groan, he started slowly, drawn-out deep thrusts, careful and languid. Right there, she felt the pleasure begin to build inside of her. She ground against him, and his pace increased, he had found the correct spot and was working away at it, hitting it over and over again until she could hardly stand the sensation, It felt all too blissful, too strong, and she was exalting, she was flying, so sweet, so deep inside of her filling her. He went faster, growling in her ear, pumping into her, as she matched the manic pace. She came with a scream, and he kept going, drawing another orgasm out of her. He came with a sharp throaty growl. When he pulled out she staggered, legs wobbling. She could hear him chuckle behind her.

“You enjoyed that,” He said and put his arms around her waist.

She snuggled into him. “Yeah, that was…. You’re back, luv.”

“I suppose so,” He purred.

They washed each other up. After the shower, they smoked cigarettes as she made breakfast, full English today. She decided to be cheeky and just wear her robe and an apron. Work was in two hours and they had time to relax and enjoy the food. It felt safe, it felt comfortable and she could almost imagine them continuing like this. But no, he’d get that flat and move away, but really they could still do this on the weekends.  
She had a long shift that day, he’d be at the bungalow before her, she knew that. The house was dark when she came back to it, Nina Simone was playing on her stereo, odd because she had no Nina Simone CDs, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and she knew this wasn’t right. Elias was sitting on the couch, in a now rumpled suit, glass of red wine in one hand lit cigarette in the other. There were empty bottles by his feet and the ashtray was full of butts. He didn’t even look at her when she flicked not the light. He was staring out into nothing.

“Peter’s back from the Tundra,” He croaked.

“I’m sorry darling,” She said.

She sat down next to him and he leaned into her, but didn’t look at her. He shifted down to rest his head on her lap, she ran her hands through his hair, and made soothing noises. It was an hour later that she realized he’d fallen asleep there, by then her legs were also asleep. Everything had been going so well, now they were back to square one. She fell asleep to her hands in his hair, his breath on her knees, so many out there would take the opportunity to snap his neck. She wouldn’t, a part of her that hated her for that raged at her, he’d put her through so much bullshit, so much heartbreak for his inconstant fickle..love? No, he didn’t love her…was it companionship. Did it matter? She was just a human, her time was so brief and he needed her comfort and the warmth of her body, even if he didn’t say it, even if he could never admit it. She drifted into her dreams. He was gone when she awoke, her knees and back ached, she was cold and the grey light of dawn was creeping through the curtains. She stretched out and shuffled up from the couch to crawl back to her own bed. He, of course, was sleeping in the bed right in the middle, arms and legs outstretched, he hadn’t bothered with his sleeping mask so his eyes were wide open, but asleep.  
He blinked lazily in the light that filtered through the doorway, yawned and ran a hand over his face.

“Priss, It’s early, what are you doing?” He muttered.

“I’m going to sleep,” she said.

“Ah, alright,” he muttered. “No kiss, Priss?”  
She walked over to the bed, with a slight smile and kissed him lightly on the lips. He laid back on the pillows with a satisfied noise, falling back to sleep. She snuggled into her corner of the bed, it was almost comfy now, the alarm would go off in two hours, she slept next to him, this where she belonged, near him. In her dreams, she was attempting to reach him, but he was at the top of a steep hill and every time she got near, the hill seemed to grow a foot taller. He watched her from the top, sitting on a throne, smiling, his insufferable smile. She’d finally made it to the top and was within a foot of him, when the fog rolled in and came between them. Her alarm went off then, and she jolted awake. He was lying in bed, staring at her intently.

She smiled at him. “Did you like the show in there?”

He moved towards her and swept her up in his arms, kissing at her hungrily.

“Of course,” He said. “It’s very flattering.”

She returned the kisses and he took off the nightgown. They fucked sloppily and quickly, it was good. Afterwards, he pulled away and began to stare into nothing, she knew he was looking for Peter as she watched his expression change from satisfaction to misery. She dressed for work, did her hair and put on her makeup, watching him from the corner of her eye. He wasn’t moving, he wasn’t doing anything.

“Darling?” She asked. “Do you want me to call work for you, tell them you’re sick?”

He glared at her and shook his head. “I’ll call, I’m coming in, but I will be later than normal.”

“Alright,” She said with a shrug. He knew what he was about, and it was better not to interfere.

She had a busy day, but her mind kept going back to him. She hoped that he was working, it seemed to steady him, to center him even when he was this miserable, it helped. It was night when she returned but the lights were on, that was a good thing. His briefcase was by the door, as if he just dropped it there when he entered, there was that sad jazz playing but he wasn’t sitting sullenly smoking on the sofa. The bedroom door was open and it was dark in there, but was lying on the bed staring emptily into nothing, the bottle and a half she’d found by the foot the bed meant he was too drunk to actually SEE properly, so he was just being miserable. He said nothing to her, didn’t even seem to notice her. That was fine. She went back to her night. This became the pattern for the next two weeks. When he needed her he’d say, but he didn’t, he was far away from her, his eyes on Peter.  
Then one night she came home to find him on the sofa, glaring not staring into space.

“What’s the matter Elias?” She asked.

“I have a meeting tomorrow with the Lukas family,” he growled. “If they propose withdrawing their funding… because of Peter’s interference, …I’m ruined, the institute is ruined… I can’t have that… Peter bloody Lukas.”

His expression changed from anger to misery. “I…. can’t… what if he’s there, Priss? He can hide from me in the Lonely, I don’t know… and everything could be lost… I’m not sure I can face him.”

He picked up a bottle of wine, still in the brown paper bag, it had been uncorked and he took a drink.

He looked so defeated, she walked to him and put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, you never let them know, never let him know, chin up, luv,” She said.

He seemed to steady under her hand and he looked up at her. “Yes, you’re right, if they propose anything, I can let a few statements leak to the press. Everything will be fine.”

His hand snaked down to her waist and he drew her to him. She smiled, they fucked that night, it was like fireworks sparking in the darkness, over and over again. He needed this, he needed her now.

She woke up earlier then normal, washed and pressed his best suit, made breakfast and waited. He looked great, like nothing had happened to ruffle a feather now. He didn’t say anything but the smile he gave her was enough. They were both nervous, both scared. Her shift ended mid-afternoon that day. She wanted to see if everything was going well, but didn’t dare call or drop in. No, that would never do. So went home, smoked and paced, she was sure it would be fine, he would be fine, he was charming and persuasive, even if Peter was there, he knew how to hide it. She’d seen him leave for work, there wasn’t a hair out of place. It had to go well, it would go well. She heard the sound of tires crunching on the gravel of the driveway. The doorknob turned and the lock clicked.  
She turned and saw him, he looked calm and serene, he smiled slightly.

“It went well,” He said. “They increased their funding.”

“Oh thank god,” She breathed out.

“Quite,” He said. “Kiss?”

She ran over and kissed him hard. She could laugh she was so relieved.

“…Was?” She began.

He looked down and away. “…yes he was. He was civil, well he was silent, which is better. I was concerned he’d make a scene.”

“Are you—?” She asked.

“Yes, I’m fine,” He said irritably. “I guess after all these years, he doesn’t care, which is alright, because I don’t either…”

His face fell and he walked away, handing her his coat and putting his briefcase down. She could hear him, walking to the bedroom, not even stopping for wine or cigarettes. This was bad. She hung up his coat.

The doorbell rang. She answered and was greeted by a cloud of fog, Peter Lukas stood in the middle of it. He looked at her sadly. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I heard Elias was staying with you. Is that true?”

She wanted to refuse and slam the door, but she was so tired and besides…he never was hers to begin with.

“Yes,” She sighed.

“Can you fetch him for me?” Peter said.

“I don’t know if—“ She began.

There was the sound of footsteps from behind her.

“Peter?” Elias said.

“Elias,” Peter responded.

She backed away and the two men faced each other.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you after today’s meeting,” Peter said. “You looked so miserable,”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elias countered arrogantly.

“Come now Elias, you can’t lie to me,” Peter said. “Not about that, I know misery when I see it, and frankly I’m flattered.”

Elias looked a bit confused and suspicious. “You are?”

“Yes, had I known you felt enough for me to be pushed into my realm because of our disagreement….” Peter began.

“Peter?” Elias began.

Peter stepped forward and put his big arms around the smaller man. Elias looked up at him, for a moment and then buried his face into Peter’s chest, his arms tight around Peter.

“Thank you so much for looking after Elias,” Peter said. “It’s comforting to know he felt so utterly alone despite the fact you were taking care of him, lying next to him.”

“I…” Priss began.

“Oh no, you did your best,” Peter said, his hand stroking Elias’s hair. “Anyhow we have to be getting back to our flat.”

Elias looked up and at Priss, he seemed a bit dazed but he looked so much happier, then she’d seen him in three months. Her heart sank.

“Thank you Priss,” he said. “I’ll send someone for my things, later.”

And they left. She was alone, and she’d stay that way in the ten months that followed. She heard from Simon, they had a re-commitment ceremony that November, apparently it was beautiful and the vows were sincere and touching. She told herself, it didn’t matter, that the next time she'd be there for him for any reason, after all, Peter did still go to sea, Elias still had…needs.

[](https://ibb.co/hLmcX6p)


	14. The rise and fall of Marc Sobiseki I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains breathe play if you aren't a fan don't read.

Peter was at sea so she knew Elias would be calling her soon. He needed it about once a week minimum and she was ‘the best bit of cunny he’d had in 200 years’ apparently. She knew she wasn’t the only partner Elias had. The others though, they never lasted, they never found out what he really was and if they did, they couldn’t or wouldn’t appreciate it. They were like moths who flitted in and out and finally away. Unenlightened fools, who’d scream and shudder if they knew what they were sleeping with. Sometimes that had happened, perhaps on purpose. Apparently there’d been a ‘Jennifer’ who Peter later dealt with and a ‘Gavin’ who cut out his eyes and threw himself off a bridge into the Thames. All the better really.  
She knew she was seeing him tonight, it had been down her calendar for a month. He always scheduled these things in advance. Priss knew him, she knew what he liked and what he liked was to know when and who he was sleeping with on any particular day. He’d cancelled the last two times they were supposed to meet, said he’d been working late and was too tired. She didn’t know if she believed him but tonight was a Friday and he had called her to make sure she was on her way. This likely meant he hadn’t gotten any for a while and was gagging for it. It could also mean he was coked up but he sounded sober enough. So she arrived at the usual hotel, the desk clerk gave her a weary look as she checked in, she didn’t care, probably bitter that they were down here checking people in instead of out partying. She took the lift up the penthouse floor and put her key card in.

“Hello Darling, Sorry I’m late traffic was a nightmare,” She began.

It wasn’t Elias, instead, there was a large, handsome, man with a scruffy beard that looked to be in his early twenties. He wore a hotel bathrobe, a flute of champagne in his tanned hand as he regarded her with suspicion.

“Excuse me?” He said, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I’m sorry I must have gotten the wrong room,” She apologized, it looked like their usual room, maybe the keycard malfunctioned. “Is Penthouse A?”

“Yes,” The young man replied. “Just what are YOU doing here.”

“…is Elias here?” She asked.

“That’s none of your business,” He sneered. “You were late so he called me.”

“Where is Elias? Does he know how rude you are?” She said. “Some attitude you have for a bit of rough.”

“Why would he care how I talk to some nasty slag,” He said. “You were late and so he got himself a better replacement.”

“Hmmm” She smiled cruelly. “He’s watching you know, so watch what you say.”

That was when Elias stepped into the room.

“Ah, Marc, Priss so you’ve met?” Elias said with a grin. He was in a red silk robe and looked a bit tousled, a bit freshly fucked.

Priss felt her heart sink, but she wasn’t going let the mask slip, not in front Marc. “Sorry I was late, luv. I see you’ve been enjoying yourself. Want me to go?”

Elias blinked, he looked at her into her, she held his gaze. “No. Marc was just getting ready to leave, weren’t you?”

“Hmmm I hope so, builders probably start pretty early, don’t they.” She said.

“Well, don’t stay up too late,” Marc said. “I heard cleaning ladies have to get an early start as well.”

Marc turned back to the bedroom to dress.

“You’re not jealous are you?” Elias asked, amusement in his voice.

“Why should I be? Things like that come and go but never last.” Priss said.

“Quite,” Elias remarked grinning like a cat who got the cream.

Marc sauntered out of the bedroom in a tank top and jeans, his gaze slid over Priss disdainfully and he winked at Elias as strutted out. He then ran straight into the door before proceeding to have issues opening it. Priss watched as he couldn’t seem to figure out if was push or pull. He figured out the door eventually, leaving swiftly.  
They both began to laugh.

“Really him, Elias?” Priss asked.

“Well he’s built like a Greek god, and you don’t need intelligence to be good in bed,” Elias said.

“True,” Priss sighed. There was silence, he’d already HAD someone, she wondered what he wanted with her. She sat down on the sofa, he pulled up a chair and sat across from her, there was an unopened deck of playing cards, champagne flutes and an almost full magnum of Moët and Chandon on the coffee table between them. He looked at her then his eyes went to the deck of cards, he began to peel off the plastic wrapper.

“Fancy a game of bezique?” He asked looking at his fingers as they removed the wrapper.

“What?” She responded. “I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

“Of course not, it was before your time, but I can teach you,” He smiled, shuffling the cards... “If you want?…”

“Alright sure,” She smiled.

She poured out two flutes of champagne. Bezique wasn’t the easiest game, but she got the form of it, she was pretty sure he was flagrantly cheating the whole time, but it was fun. They laughed, drank, smoked and played until room service brought dinner up. They chatted over dinner.

“—No, Peter doesn’t even want to KNOW how to play this,” He said with a fond grin. “He says it's too ‘complicated’. I’ve told him, ‘darling, how much more complex is it then the changes to the lbw rules?’ He never responds.”

She laughed. “I knew you followed cricket, but Peter?”

“Yes, it’s one the few pleasures he admits too,” Elias sighed, “That’s how we met. I was at Mooreland house to drum up some funds, miserable blasted place, it was the weekend of the test match against Australia… while I COULD in theory watch using my abilities…it’s a bit of strain for that long.”

“Do the Lukases even have a television?” She asked.

“A very small black and white set, horrid reception, tucked away in a broom cupboard with a folding chair of the worst sort,” he said. “So I managed to sneak off there, lo and behold who’s adjusting the antenna, but Peter Lukas. The match was going to start… he offered me the ONE chair and squeezed behind me.”

“Really you bonded over sport?” Priss asked.

“That and I accidentally brushed against his leg with my arm, while cheering and I swear he moaned. He was touch starved, poor thing, I knew I had him.” Elias said with a grin.

“I remember that, “ Priss sighed. “After the trip to Mooreland house, you changed.”

“Well yes,” He said. “Really Priss, you aren’t going to mope something that happened almost ten years ago.”

She adjusted her expression. “No of course not.”

He stared at her and sighed in frustration. “Kiss, Priss?”

“Alright,” She shrugged, leaning over the coffee table and kissed him lightly.

He smiled at her, kissed her again, patted her hand. They finished dinner, the champagne following swiftly after and smoked more cigarettes. It was getting dark outside. He was staring at her with heavy lids. 

“Undress,” he ordered in a soft yet commanding voice.

She obliged, taking her time, letting him watch as each little thing came off her, as every bit of her body was revealed. Finally, she stood naked before him, she felt SEEN and KNOWN, every inch of skin catalogued, every imperfection noted. He drank her in for a time, grinning to himself. She felt cold, alone, almost wanted to cover up, but he KNEW her body, he’d seen and touched every part of it. There was a thrill of arousal that surged down her spine. He grinned wider, he knew. He stretched and got up, never letting his own robe fall as he walked over to her. He met her eyes, she saw what he wanted and nodded. He began to kiss her on the lips, hungry devouring kisses that moved down her neck, his lips were replaced by his hand that tightened around her neck as he worked his way down to her breasts. They already had a word worked out for this: kiwi. The thrill inside her groin seemed to grow and blossom. He was attacking her chest with consuming kisses, focusing on the mole on the underside of her left breast, Priss moaned in protest when his hand left her neck, and he drew back. She didn’t protest as he pushed her down onto the sofa, her legs up and akimbo. He was in between, hands back around her neck, she was getting wonderfully dizzy as he plunged into her. She arched her back, wrapping her legs around him. The steady pressure around her neck and the furious thrusting inside made the pleasure grow wings and she was soaring, dizzy and blissful as she ground into him. He was hitting that spot inside of her. The stuttering nonsense coming out of her mouth wasn’t making sense and hardly sounded human anymore. She was barely aware of anything beyond the sensations overtaking her and their bodies in motion, in tandem together, thrust and grind, roll and pump. His mouth was buried in her shoulder biting her.  
That’s what did it.  
She came, screaming and quivering. Her head swam and her vision clouded over as his grip on her neck grew tighter. Elias came with a growl, let go and rolled off her. She gathered him in her arms and he nuzzled into her chest. They laid next to each other, she gulped down a few deep breaths. He was looking at the marks on her neck and bitten shoulder with a smirk.

“How was that?” She asked finally.

“Excellent,” He murmured.

“Better than that Marc …?” She began, hopefully.

He sighed clearly exasperated. “Different than him… not better or worse, Priss. Don’t ask me to judge each experience, especially not now.”

He got up and put his robe on in annoyance. She looked up at the ceiling as he went off to have a shower, she was alone and her bruises had started to hurt. She closed her eyes. Why did she always get things wrong?  
After few minutes Priss put on her black silk and lace camisole and walked into the bathroom, the shower was still running though she didn’t particularly care as she examined the fresh bruises on her neck and shoulder with a frown. The shower shut off and Elias stepped out to towel himself dry.

“What’s wrong Priss?” He asked.

“I can’t go into work like this,” She sighed biting her lip.”They’ll talk and I can’t have that. I’ll have to cover them up.”

He walked up behind her and pressed his fingers into the bruises, she winced. “Didn’t you enjoy getting them?”

She smiled at him and turned around and leaned down to kiss him, humming in agreement. 

They broke apart from their kiss, Elias running his fingers down her neck and over her shoulder.

“They look a bit like a necklace…” He mused. “Which does remind me, there is something I’ve been meaning to give you, a token of my affection, if you will.”

“Oh? You don’t have to do that, darling” She murmured.

“No. I want to,” he said.

“Alright,” She said.“What is it?”

He pointed at her neck with a smile. She furrowed her brow for a moment, then understood and gave a matching grin. They spent the next day as usual, relaxing, making love, drinking way too much wine, maybe doing a little cocaine and they played a few more hands of bezique.

Elias had told her to meet him at the Institute at 1:00 pm on Thursday, nothing unusual, they had scheduled it two weeks in advance, but the idea of a gift made her smile. When she got there his secretary told Priss he was busy, not to be disturbed. Odd, he was usually so punctual. The office door was closed as well. She waited, there were noises coming from the office, the tick of the clock, a steady, small, rhythmic noise of wood creaking and scuffing carpet.  
She knew that noise very well.  
Elias’ desk had one leg shorter than the others and when he had her bent over it, that was the exact noise it made. It was often the only noise they made, otherwise they’d be quiet as mice when together at the institute. She wondered if Peter back already? No. He wasn’t due for three more months. It was that… that… Marc. She snarled just thinking about the arrogant, rough trade, trash. She wanted to barge in, but that wouldn’t do she couldn’t stay in Elias’ favor acting like that. So she held her fury and waited until the noise stopped. Then she softly tapped on the door.

“Yes?” Elias said, from within. He sounded a bit hoarse and confused.

“It’s me,” She said.

“Ah, yes, right,” Elias replied.

“Should I leave?” She asked.

“No, come in, I’m done dear,” Marc said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

She opened the door. Elias was standing behind his desk, stretching a bit and Marc was standing to the side zipping his jeans with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Elias saw her and smiled.

“Leaving were you Marc?” She said.

“Yeah, did what I came to do,” He responded.

Elias smiled at Marc and smoothed down his hair.

“I’m sure,” Priss said. “I hope you manage to leave this time since you seemed to have such problems figuring out how doors worked the last time we met.”

Elias chuckled, Marc glared at Priss.

Marc gave a quick goodbye to Elias before sauntering past them and out the door, successfully this time, closing it behind him

“Elias, really?” She said. “Him again?”

“His lack of intelligence is made up for by his other excellent qualities,” Elias said calmly.

“I could have come earlier, if you wanted, I don’t have to be back until 2:30,” She said.

He made a vague thoughtful hum. 

“Well you are talented, but there are things you can’t do for me Priss, that he can,” Elias countered. “Besides, it’s you I have present for, not him.”

“Yes, I remember you saying. Thank you, Elias” She began.

“Come here,” He beckoned.

She walked over to him.

“Kiss Elias?” She asked.

He agreed and she leaned down and gave him a brief peck on the lips. He looked at her neck. “Healing up are you?”

“Yeah luv,” She said.

You could hardly see the bruises under the concealer and foundation, but his eyes zeroed in them. His fingers were on her neck, moving in tiny stroking circles as he gazed at the marks fondly.

“Anyhow now for the gift, sit down,” He said, touching her knees.  
She sat down in his office chair and he reached into the left-hand desk drawer and took out a small, oblong, worn black box and handed it to her. There was a faint whiff of must and perfume as opened it. Sitting there, ensconced in silk, was a black velvet choker. It’s clasp was gold and in the middle of the choker was an eye, a ring of small white diamonds surrounding a large round sapphire.

“Oh, Elias it’s beautiful,” She said, her voice catching in her throat.

Another agreeable hum as he watched her examine it.  
“Because of your continued loyalty to me and to our master…”

“Thank you,” She said, blushing. “It’s so…”

“Let me see you in it,” He said with excitement in his voice. “I had it refurbished especially for you.”

She lifted it up, out of the box. He took it from her and, standing behind her, he clasped it around her neck. Spinning the office chair around to he could look at her, his eyes glowing with joy.

“How do I look?” She asked.

“Wonderful,” He purred. “Absolutely wonderful!”

He kissed her, again and again, each one growing deeper and more passionate. She felt him hard against her thigh and she folded him in her arms.

“You want to?” She asked. “I mean if you’re not too worn out from Marc?”

“Yes, let’s right here, in the temple of the Eye, let it see us, let it know we marked by it, and know our joy.” He whispered as his hands yanked down her bottom scrubs.

She ended up with her back against his desk as they rutted away, kissing and touching, knowing that they were being watched, intensified and heated their passion.  
Once calm again, they smoothed their clothing, hair and said their goodbyes.

She walked out, the necklace cold at her throat, holding her head high, a smile on her lips.

Marc was standing off to the side of the building, smoking a cigarette. He glared at her when she walked by.

“You think you’re special?” He scoffed.

“Yes I do,” She said, touching the necklace. “You have no idea who he is. You are just a thing, a sad little nothing. He’ll eat you up and spit you right back out.”

Marc began laughing and laughing. “I know what he is slag,” He pulled down the neck of his top to his mid-chest and there was a simple black ink tattoo of a large staring eye. “How’d you think we met?”


	15. The rise and fall of Marc Sobiseki II

~~~~ 2003~~~

Priscilla took off the necklace before she went back to her job. On the golden clasp was a small inscription: _From JM to ME for your devotion 1872._ The necklace suddenly felt cold and heavy in her hands. Well he did say he had it refurbished, she wasn’t the first and seeing that tattoo on Marc’s chest meant she wasn’t the only one. Whoever ‘ME’ was they were dead anyhow. Regardless, she had Mrs. Pettigrew on her shift. The old bat always was quick to press the call button for no reason and complained frequently. Originally in for a broken leg, her condition had taken a turn for the worse and, as Priss added a few crucial milligrams to the old bitch’s drip line, soon she’d be no trouble to anyone ever again. She had other things to do that shift and when she came back, she found Dr. Morello telling Mrs. Pettigrew’s family about her death. She lingered in the hall, watching as the old bitch’s son broke down and sobbed into his wife’s shoulders. She hid her smile behind a manilla file folder and she could feel Elias inside her, watching, enjoying every moment, and the thrill shivered down her spine.  
The necklace joined a collar and matching bracelets of aquamarine, lapis and diamond that Simon had given her, the simple pendant of black onyx Rayner had gifted her and the tiger’s eye, polished bone and ruby statement necklace she’d gotten for being ‘prey’ for Fredricka Baur. Also a few carefully vetted trinkets leftover from her time with Salesa.  
The next time she saw Marc, she was leaving the Institute and he was entering it. They snubbed each other, but not so much that she didn’t see the two new eye tattoos on his left and right upper arms.

~~August- December 2003~~~  
She heard about Marc more than she saw him. Every time she encountered him, they’d sneer and he’d let drop some little jibe about her age and gender and she would do the same, or they’d just snub each other. But he was making quite a splash in this circle: Simon thought he was a ‘pip’, he was now the du jour as a third for when Peter and Elias required it, something Priss wasn’t too upset about. However Elias still saw her, so did Simon and others. When she was not working she wore the eye choker proudly, and she could feel him looking through it. Every time she saw Marc he had a brand new tattoo usually of an eye, and was looking paler, thinner, dark lines were appearing under his eyes. She just grinned wider, apparently Marc Sobieski couldn’t take the pace. Let him be the next eyeless corpse they fished out of the Thames.

~January 5th, 2004~~  
Priss always worked the weekend after New Year’s Eve, it looked good on her record and besides, everyone was hungover so things that happened were written off as hungover mistakes. She was put on the causality ward because they knew nothing rattled her, but that night something almost did. Apparently a young male, 22 years had come in after jumping through a fifth story glass window from a party at a hotel. He was cut up by the glass, the impact of the fall broke a few ribs and fractured his left ankle. He was coked off his tits and screaming about monster orgies before they sedated him. The name on the chart was Marc Sobeiski, and she smiled. He was pale from blood loss under his hospital gown, covered with tiny cuts, bruises and few bites marks. He looked nothing like the swaggering, mouthy asshole he’d been before. His eyes moved in this sleep restlessly so maybe he was having nightmares. Small tattoos of eyes covered his shoulder, upper arms and swirled down his torso, there were other marks that Priss knew but didn’t. According to his chart: marijuana, alcohol, MDMA, and cocaine were found in his bloodstream. Apparently he’d been incoherent when they brought him ranting about monsters and dark powers. She could feel Elias looking through her at Marc. She wondered if she should end him now, it would please the eye, Elias and most importantly her. She then saw his eyelids flicker, he saw her and cracked a weary smile.

“The old woman told me,” He said his voice hoarse from screaming, and dead from the sedatives. “She warned me it would be like this. I laughed at her.”

“Gertrude?” Priss sniffed. “Yeah she does that, she’s not your friend though, she just wants more ammo for her fight, dear.”

“I’ll give her a statement,” Marc sighed. “I mean I thought it sounded cool: a weekend of sex, drugs and partying with the big boys. Turns out I was the food. And they were… “

He paused and dull look of terror appeared in his eyes, it would be more if he wasn’t sedated she knew, she felt Elias staring through her eagerly.

“…They were hungry… I said yes to everything… but oh god… Things happened, I thought I was strong enough, I’d seen so much… and yet somehow they dredged up things I hadn’t been afraid of in years, and made them so real.” He said his eyes wide, the terror in them made her eager. “And of course they fucked me, all of them, in every hole until I couldn’t I…I couldn’t keep up…. they laughed at me, He let them…. HE LET THEM DO THAT AND WATCHED SMILING.“

“You always were just a cheap trick, Marc,” She hissed at him. “Serves you right, you were never strong enough.”

He grabbed her arm. “You think you’re better than me, eh? You think you’re so superior with your cold eyes, that you let him look through, your smug face, well you are just a human babe, just like me. If I didn’t jump through the window… I’d be done for, they’d devour every part of me. They will do it to you too. Get out while you can, Nurse Abbott.”

She yanked her arm away and back away from him. “That’s a load of bollocks, you are still high, and talking rot.”

She knew Gertrude or that black friend of hers would come sniffing round soon trying to get Marc to give a statement. Well, they wouldn’t hear a bloody thing, she put a note on his chart to keep him heavily sedated. He was gone in three days, discharged himself apparently. She hoped that was the last she’d see or hear from him.

~March 2004~

Three months had passed, she hadn’t heard anything about Marc or seen him. Peter was at sea again, which meant she had a weekly ‘lunch date’ with Elias, usually they never left his office or even got food. She was on her knees, he was sitting behind his desk, her mouth on his cock, his fingers running through her hair. He wasn’t pushy today, letting her go her own pace and take her time, they were quiet here, but she could tell by his heavy breathing the slight tug on her hair he was enjoying himself soon he came with a sigh and she swallowed it.

“Get up, Priss darling,” He said.

She rose to her feet, dusting off her knees. He was adjusting his trousers zipping them and doing the belt. He stood up, put his hands her waist and guided her to the chair. 

“Is it my turn then?” She asked with a smile, she was already wet.

“Well, is it clean?” He asked mildly.

“Of course,” She said.

“Then it’s only fair you had a turn as well,” He grinned sexily.

She sat down on the chair and he dropped to his knees today she was wearing a blue skirt, a nice blue slightly low cut top, the choker and had her hair up.  
He put his hand up her skirt and ran a finger over her panties she sighed into his finger and then he stopped.

“Is there anything you want?” She asked, a bit annoyed.

“I want you to retrain as a psych nurse.” He said.

“What?” She was startled.

“I require it of you, “ he said looking up at her.

Well it wouldn’t be a bad thing to get more training, and she could deal with anyone who bothered the institute or him, many of them ended up in psych wards.

“Yes I will,” She said.

“Excellent,” He said with a smile and then ducked under her skirt and tugged her panties off with his teeth.

Soon she was having trouble forming any coherent thoughts at all.

~~~~  
The training took eighteen months, it was seen as a good thing by her supervisors and she knew Elias was watching her progress. She could feel it and feel his approval. There was good news about Marc too, Gertrude hadn’t been able to find him. Apparently he’d attacked his flatmate attempting to cut their eyes and hadn’t been seen much since that night, he had no fixed address anymore and was wary of the institute so would not be coming in to give her a statement.


	16. The rise and fall of Marc Sobiseki III

~July 2005~

The heat of the day didn’t bother either of them as the standing fans Priss kept around her bed were pointed directly at them. They were enmeshed in each other, his fingers inside of her and her hands wrapped around him. Peter was away of course, they wouldn’t be seeing each other if things were going well or he was around, she wasn’t exactly sure which because he never said. As for now they were about to make love and that’s what mattered One of his fingers was rubbing her clit, two were inside her, beckoning, intense she wanted more she moaned. He saw this and smiled.  
“Eager aren’t we?” He asked.

“I’m not the only one, luv,” She commented, after all he was hard in her hand.

“Mmmm,” He murmured. “Response to stimuli…” As he removed his hand and mounted her. She slung her legs over his shoulders and he plunged into her.

The pace was slow at first as the pleasure built and bloomed inside of her, She ground against him, she rolled her hips and squeezed him. He sped up, each movement sending waves of rapture through her nerves. He was sliding against that spot inside of her it was too much but she held on, he was staring into her a lazy smile on his face, and she wanted to make those eyes go dull, or better yet roll upwards and that smile disappear into slack-jawed over stimulation. She knew she could. She wrapped her legs tighter, rolled her hips more, called his real name over and over again. As they built up, and for a moment she saw it, he growled a deep throaty: ‘YES!’ over and over again as she rolled her hips in a circle squeezing and grinding into him. He was hitting that spot and the feeling was almost, almost too much. She watched as his eyes went dull, his jaw relaxed, she ground down harder squeezed tighter.He couldn’t say real words just stutter out noises, his eyes did roll up in his head as he cried out, coming and shuddering. He blinked, he was still hard inside of her, his smile returned and he pounded away inside of her hitting that spot with such ferocity and frequency, she could feel thoughts dissolve as the sensations overwhelmed her and she came, three times. After they were lying together, his head on her chest he was idly playing with that mole on the underside of her left breast, their breathing, and heart-beats getting back to normal, the aftermath of it still rushing through their nerves. He stopped, he sat up and looked at her right at her with those intense lovely eyes of his.

“Marc Sobiseki just checked himself in the psych ward of the hospital you work at,” Elias said with a chuckle.

“Wot?” Priss still dazed from the sex, she blinked processing the words. “He has?”

“Yes darling you will keep an eye on him won’t you?” Elias asked but it wasn’t a question, it was an order.

“Yeah, I’ll take care of him luv, don’t worry,” She said sitting up, leaning over and kissing him quickly, few pecks as reassurance.

“Good girl see that you do,” He smiled and rested his head on her chest again going back to playing with that mole.

~~~~~  
All the tattoos of eyes Marc had big black X-s tattooed over them. He looked like shit, his skin was red picked open in places, tract-marks in others, he was thin and sickly pale now all muscle definition gone, ribs jutting, eyes sunk into dark circles, teeth missing. He shivered like a junkie, which to be fair he probably was now. When he noticed her, in the day room, he began to laugh a mad, loud jagged sound.

“Nurse Abbott! So nice to see you here!” He crowed. “I’m not surprised, after all the monsters like to keep tabs on me.”

“You don’t look so good, Marc,” She said, not meeting his eyes, she didn’t want her co-workers to know.

“Does Elias still fuck you with his eyes open? How can you NOT be creeped out by that?” Marc yelled.

She ignored that, pretended to ignore him, sneaking glances at him when he wasn’t paying attention. There were too many people here now, she couldn’t do anything yet or say anything.

Later alone in the hospital room, she bent over him and said: “If you do it right, he closes his eyes.”

He chuckled at that. “You still think you are special, don’t you? You aren’t, and they don’t care about you. You’ll be used and thrown away like I was.”

“We all have our time to be useful, and what’s our existence compared to theirs? You know what they are but are too thick to understand that,” Priss snarled.

“You think they’ll just let you go easy?” Marc snorted. “We can help each other Pricilla, you and me. We can make sure we end up safe.”

“I am safe, I am loyal and I serve something greater than myself,” Priss said primly.

“What Jonah? You think all the times you’ve fucked him, meant anything? “Marc said. “He’s not so great, from what I’ve heard, you of all people should know and we can escape. There are those in the Magnus institute who could help us.”

“You mean Gertrude, her black friend and that lot?” Priss snorted. “You think they want us safe, no they just want to find out what we know.”

Marc’s expression changed to scowl. “You’re a brainwashed cunt. I knew you wouldn’t help….stop looking at me! I KNOW HE’S LOOKING THROUGH YOU AT ME! STOP IT!”

He rose from his bed and charged her. “HE SEES THROUGH YOUR EYES! THAT’S HOW HE KNOWS!”

The other nurse who was watching came in and tackled him. Together they restrained him, and put him back in the bed, making sure he couldn’t get loose.  
The problem now was every time she was near Marc and he saw her he’d kick up a fuss, yelling, screaming, and throwing things while she wanted to take care of this jumped up rentboy, she had no way of getting near him.  
~~~  
It was a fortnight later, they were alone, Peter and Elias were having an ‘off period” Which meant it was very much ON for her and Elias. They were in bed, and his head was between her legs, she was moaning, engulfed in sensations. Her hands in his hair. Then he paused, he stopped, sat up, wiped his mouth and picked something out of his teeth.

“Wot?” She asked. “Why’d you stop luv?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes as he got up, locating his boxers on the floor and putting them on. “Gertrude Robinson has had Marc Sobiseki discharged into her care.”

She sat up “Elias he was heavily sedated and restrained last time I saw him—“

“—You said you’d take care of him, you failed.” Elias said there was disappointment in voice then it became contempt. “Really, Priss, how are you this incompetent?”  
He was pulling on his trousers, buttoning his shirt.

“I—Elias, please don’t leave…” She began.

“I should have known better than to trust you with something so important.” He sighed and he put on his blazer.

“I swear I’ll make it up to you,” She begged.

“How? I doubt there is anything you could offer me now, that I would want,” He said as he straightened his tie.

“I could …” She stared pointedly at his groin.

His brow furrowed he stared at her considering, his eyes glimmered coldly: “Hmmm well I can think of one thing, turn around and get on your hands and knees.”

She hesitated but did so, she heard his belt unbuckle and the sound of his zip, she smiled. “What are you thinking of darling?”

“I’m going to punish you for your incompetence. I’m going to use your rear-entrance, no lube,” He said, he sounded pleased now.

“What!? I didn’t prepare for that!” She squawked.

“That’s quite alright, I’m ready to deal with any unpleasantness that comes up,” He said mildly. She could feel his erection press against her arsehole. “I can leave if you’d like.”

She sighed, closed her eyes, he would too, just leave. But she didn’t want him to, she wanted him there hurting her, rather than him gone. “No, Elias darling, fuck me.”

“If you say so,” He said with a grunt he was inside of her.  
He burned inside of her as he thrust away, hard and brutal, no mercy, no tenderness, no thought of her, his hands dug into her thighs, despite herself she squealed at the feeling, she knew he’d stop if she asked. She knew the hands yanking her hair back as far it would go, the rough burning pain inside would disappear and he’d be gone, she’d had failed him again. There were times it felt good for a second or two, but mostly it felt terrible as he growled , grunted and continued to roughly fuck her arse. Then finally with one last hard and deep plunge he came. He wiped off his cock on the bed sheet beside her.  
“Did… that… help make up for it, luv?” She asked.

“Yes it was adequate,” He said mild as milk, as if he hadn’t; just beat up her insides. “If you have the opportunity Priss, do please, see if you can do anything about Marc?”  
~~~  
As it turned out all she had to do was wait, Marc was back in the ward in a week, paranoid rambling about eyes apparently he left his ‘aunts’ care and attempted to attack some people on the street. She angled to get a shift late at night. Marc was asleep, drugged and almost silent, he muttered a bit in his dreams. She had the extra dosage in hand, all ready to send him away, it wouldn’t look suspicious, just a hair more than what he was already on, just a hair more to get rid of him for good. She could feel Elias, no Jonah inside her looking out, the smile that curled her lips was not just hers. Marc opened his eyes, he blinked twice and stared at her.

He tried to jerk away but his wrists were cuffed to the bed, the terror in his eyes was delicious her heart beat faster.

“N—“ He began but she put her hand over his mouth.

He looked at her silently begging with his eyes, no snark, just terror and pleading. She leaned heavy on him. “No one will miss you, Marc.”

She was speaking words but they weren’t hers and she realized the truth of them. He was the black sheep, a disowned son of Catholic immigrants, no friends who hadn’t stolen from or alienated, he’d die scared and alone. She pressed the syringe into his drip line disposed of it and stepped back.His eyes rolled back into his head and his limbs twitched In a minute when she called the code he was already dead.

In between shifts her phone rang it was Elias.

“You used your second chance to good advantage, Priss darling.” He purred in her ear. “You will be rewarded.”

“Thank you, luv,” She smiled widened, felt her heart beat fast and a happy warmth inside her spread out.


	17. Past lovers of Jonah Magnus

~~~October 2005~~~~~

When Priss received a thick brown long brown envelope in the mail, addressed to her in a neat hand, she was curious. Inside was the death certificate of one Archibald Fortescue, more papers committing him to Bethlem Royal Hospital, a photograph of a stooped, thin, tired man with wispy white hair labeled ‘Archie’. There was also a few pages labeled: **“Statement of Archibald Fortescue regarding his long term relationship with Richard Mendelson, Head of the Magnus Institute given April 12th, 1967**.”

She began to read the statement without thinking:  
‘I utterly loathe him, that isn’t fair to say really because I still love him, almost to the point of obsession. I knew exactly what he was very early on in our relationship, that Richard, my 'Dickie' wasn’t really Dickie at all, but rather Jonah. The worst part of it is, not that I fear he’s watching, because I know he is, but that fear he’s not. Makes me sound rather pathetic doesn’t it? But I do know he's always watching, especially when you mention him, and I can feel it, most people don’t bother to notice, but if you are keen you can feel an odd change inside like there is someone staring at you or through you. But I suppose this is my last act of devotion to him, might as give him this last gift, right? I’m dying, and well they tell me I’m quite mad, I concede both.   
So I’ll begin at the beginning. I met him a year after the war ended, in the usual way. The thing is I’ve always liked gals and boys, but I thought women were for romancing and settling down with and men were for brief flings. That was what it was meant to be. I’d been behind the German line in the war, counter intelligence, helping the resistance very hush-hush. I did things, horrible things, and after it ended I couldn’t go back to being the same man I was before. So when I say the usual way, it was was just supposed to quick sex in a public restroom. I was smoking on a park bench and he was walking by. He was quite a handsome man, so was I, wouldn’t know that too look at me now eh? I noticed him, and he looked back at me, really, really looked at me with those eyes of his, then grinning turned back and walked into the restroom. Now, I know a come on when I see one, so after waiting a beat, I followed. You can guess what happened next. I was meant to leave, I wasn’t supposed to ever see him again, but those eyes seemed to stop me so I offered him a cigarette. We walked together to a local drinking spot and we talked for hours. I did most of the talking. It seemed everything came pouring out -the war, my life, my problems with Bea who was my fiancée at the time, he listened, commented now and then and smiled to himself.  
At the time I didn’t think his smile was cruel, it seemed a bit sad and yes bit amused. He told me that things I did were done in a time of war and I should not feel bad about it.  
When he said it, I felt freed, I felt absolved. We never exchanged numbers or addresses, you see.   
However Dickie had a habit of turning up at places I was, I thought it was a coincidence back then and I was always happy to see him. My fiancée Beatrice who I loved dearly during my service, now seemed so much more boring and irritating, I suppose I had put her on a pedestal and reality hit me hard. Anyhow the last time I’d been rowing with Bea.  
Dickie just happened to meet me as I walked out to calm down. He knew exactly what to do— yes…. it was sex. At the time I decided that was the last time I’d have anything to do with him.   
  
Then he told me, he dropped the veil and revealed who and what he was, it made a cruel and wonderful sense. He was something more than I, stronger, older and more exciting. Bea left me for my friend Reggie, in the end. I knew before I got the dear john letter, Richard had told me. I don’t know exactly… but I ended up …I shared a flat and a bed with him for nigh on twenty years… I know what he is but I always felt uneasy when I’d go to leave a room, go to turn out the light, then see him, just sitting in his chair, staring into nothing and grinning. I’d often felt jealous that he wasn’t watching me. Is it strange to welcome the overwhelming feeling of being watched? To be so low you can’t leave bed, when you don’t feel that gaze on you? When it’s the closest thing to love you’ve known for so long, maybe it’s not so odd  
Also the drinking helped, until it didn’t. He’s done with me, sucked the marrow from my soul, and I don’t think I’ll see my Dickie again. The last breakdown I had, I wound up here, they usually keep me medicated, I suppose it’s easier to live in a cloud of Thorazine when the idea that serpent you clutched to your breast so many times has finally slithered away for the last time. 

I know he had me committed, I don’t have anyone else, that I’d call family and he’s very convincing when he needs to be, so we went to a lawyer and both of us have certain legal rights over the other. I think at the time, Dickie had got me into the mindset that he needed me to have those rights over him in some medical crisis. He convinced me that it was important for us both to have these rights.  
That’s how he ended up being able to commit me to the Royal Bethlem Hospital, I bet he was terribly amused to put me in the infamous Bedlam. I can almost hear that little chuckle of his.   
I haven’t seen him since I went here, however his employees yes, that Scottish chap Stacey and Miss. Law came by. I wasn’t much use to them at that point drugged to the gills. But you’re here, you're the new archivist, aren’t you, Miss Robinson, and this is one of my more lucid times. They tell me I have cancer and it’s inoperable, Dickie knew that I suppose, knew it when the tumors could be easily dealt with. But he told me that his master doesn’t like him to interfere, so here I am dying in a madhouse, giving my statement to you. I can feel him, now watching this Richard or rather Jonah, this is I suppose the closest thing I’ll get to a visit from him. Might as well enjoy it, eh? Bask in that gaze once more before it shifts away as I know it will. `

Post statement: Archibald Fortescue died of liver cancer in July of 1967. Richard Mendelson did not visit once in the intervening months. However he did pay for Archibald's remains to be cremated and privately interred.  
There was note attached in that same neat hand:  
“You see how he treats those who get close to him, Miss Abbott, -Gertrude.”

Priss’s face twisted into a grimace reading the note. The old bitch was really trying to turn the screws wasn’t she? Priss understood the feeling that Archie was describing all too well. The comfort in being seen and known, knowing he was watching you, the fear that you would bore him and he’d abandon you forever. However, no that wouldn’t happen to her, she didn’t live with Elias and she wasn’t an alcoholic as Archie had been. She wondered if Elias knew, perhaps. The next time she visited him during a lunch break she couldn’t help but notice a discreet racing green urn, on a shelf with the words: ‘Archibald Fortescue’ engraved on it.

~~~~~~  
The next large brown envelope from Gertrude arrived two weeks later, Priss let her curiosity get the better of her and opened it. It contained 1980s newspaper clippings of various tabloids: **‘SOCIALITE STABBING SPREE!’** Proclaimed the cover of The Sun. **’TERROR ON THE TUBE!’** Said the Daily Mirror. ‘ **COKE DRIVEN MURDERER RUNS AMOK!’** Screamed the Star. They all have the same image of a bloated, disheveled blonde Sloane Ranger type in a blood speckled blouse being led somewhere in cuffs. The woman in the pictures had crazy staring eyes, but the rest of her face was deeply tired.  
There were other photos professionally taken of her younger from the 1970s in these with wavy hair, posed against backgrounds of painted eyes and sometimes with skulls, always looking like she walked off the set of a hammer horror flick, in some kind of 70s gothic fashion. She was gorgeous, high cheekbones, large intense eyes, hourglass figure… Her name was Jocasta St. James-Radley according to the articles, upper class family, only child of wealthy parents who died in a boating accident when she was 14, educated at Roedean and Oxford socialite/model with an occult bent.   
She’d been the girlfriend of James Wright head of the Magnus institute they met in 1975 and the relationship lasted a decade. The tabloid articles told how one morning in 1985 on the morning tube: she began a paranoid rant, then stabbed a dozen people, killing three, and injuring nine. The tabloids blamed cocaine, which apparently was her drug of choice, however some hinted at her occult interests as well. There was also a mugshot, taken the day of the incident showing her tired cocaine bloated face, mad eyes and blood stained blouse. The official police report gave details the tabloids did not about how she stabbed all her victims in an eye, and was found jabbing the empty sockets of one of her victims. The knife she used was a simple paring knife, wicked sharp and small. There was more to the story, she consulted with her lawyer and with her boyfriend James Wright it was noted that she went very pale when he spoke to her. Afterwards she seemed strangely, detached, and calm going back to her cell. Later that day she was found dead, she’d slit her wrists with a razor, she smuggled in, Jocasta was 31.  
Priss sighed. This again? She wasn’t those people, they were weaker than her, riddled with their own demons and troubles. She’d been doing this with not just Elias but Simon and the others for that long and showed no signs of cracking up. Anyhow that Jocasta was obviously a cokehead, and Priss wasn’t. So that was fine. Gertrude sent a note along with it asking Priss to give a statement again.

~~~~~  
A final brown envelope showed up within a week, it was thicker than the last two. Among the documents was an old 19th century tintype of a brunette woman, in a low cut gown with a bustle, the choker she wore, was the exact one Elias had given Priss. The woman looked like a typical Victorian beauty: round face, dark cascading curls but there was a slight smile on her plump lips. There was a photocopy of a letter in a copperplate hand, it looked written hastily, with numerous ink blots.

March 12th, 1872.

 **Dearest Jonah** ,  
I throw myself on your mercy, you must have some for me.  
I love you, I have served you and the beholding for nigh on 50 years.  
It has been a great privilege to be your valet, your lover and trusted with your secrets for all this time.  
I know, since you became Henry (a ritual with which I helped you), I am no longer attractive to you.  
I do not slight you for that, I am no longer the golden youth of 20, that you took as your valet all those years ago.  
I know youth calls to youth, and in your new body, that you would find a younger lover.  
I have never been the jealous type, I have seen you keep close company with women and other men, and it stirred no anger in me,  
However, when your eyes alighted that unworthy creature, Marianna Everett, I felt fires of anger, build in me.  
That you would waste your time on a little scheming jade, such as her, is beyond my understanding. I have attempted to keep my own council on the subject, I knew, that you knew how I felt on the matter. That you proceeded to entangle yourself with such an adventuress, lavishing her with gifts and affections, it was not my place to say. But that she claimed to be a servant of the beholding, just because the poxy boarding house she ran had peepholes drilled in the walls, made me want to yank the lying tongue from her mouth. she knew of our past together and delighted in tormenting me with snide looks and wicked remarks, when you were otherwise occupied. When you asked me to take a note to her last fortnight, like A common messenger boy, I did. But her countenance when I handed it to her, and the rude comment that spilled from her lips, pushed me too far, Jonah. I was overwhelmed with rage and I wrapped my hands around her Slender neck and strangled the life out of her. As you have seen from the scratch on my hands and forearms, she did struggle, but I am tall and heavily built. Yes, I confess it, I throttled her until her struggles ceased, her face went blue, and the light died from those impertinent eyes. I came to my senses and fled the scene after. Please my dear master, I had no idea she was carrying your child, until you mentioned the results of the autopsy. I did not know of your plans for her, that she was to be a vessel for the Beholding’s greatness. For that I am sorry, please do not turn me over to the law. I am at your mercy, Jonah. I have been so loyal and true to you and the beholding.

Sincerely,  
Samuel Markham.

Post Statement: Henry Endicott head of the Mangus institute, did turn Samuel Markham in. He testified against his old man servant, and was present when Samuel Markham was executed by hanging in July 1872.

Gertrude added: “This is how he repays loyalty, Nurse Abbott.” There was a picture attached with paperclip to the letter, a human fetus floating in a glass jar of formaldehyde, it had three open dead milky eyes on its face and two sets of three on each arm, scribbled on the back in Gertrude’s hand was: ‘this is was the child’.  
Priss felt an odd sensation of deja vu seeing that image, she realized she had glimpsed that fetus floating in the jar before, on a shelf in Elias’s office.

A chill ran down her spine, she fought down the doubts, and fear licking at her. What did it matter, she was just a person and Elias... no, Jonah was greater then her and she would not betray him she would not betray the eye, she could feel him looking through her at that last thought, and sighed with relief feeling his approval.


	18. of honey and stings

~~~~~~~December 2005~~~~~~

Elias had reservations at a fancy restaurant; it wasn’t often that Elias showed her off, Simon took her out more often. However Priss liked this; she liked eating with him, his hand on her knee under the table. She wore that dark blue evening strapless dress Elias had got her, the choker around her neck. She got something light of course, she know after dinner they were meeting Peter at the flat and as Elias had told her: ‘put you through your paces’, which meant lots of vigorous sex for at least a night and day. She knew she wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a while.

“Fairchild took you to the London eye last Friday,” Elias said slicing his steak.

“Yes,” She admitted grinning. “You know what happened.”

Simon had her against the window at the apex of the London eye, thinking of it made her head swim still, and her groin ache, She could still hear wind rushing, creak of metal and the scream of the other passenger who jumped out into the sky.

Elias smirked: “He’s a show off, you shouldn’t encourage him.”

His hand was inching up her thigh.

“I can’t help it, he brings out the worst in me,” She tittered. “You don’t mind though.”

“As long you two leave a survivor able to give a statement, I don’t.” He said, wiping his lips with a napkin.

“Speaking of showing off…” She finished her salad as the waitress approached.

The waitress had re-applied her makeup, but the tear tracks were still there from last time she’d been at the table, the waitress had made a mistake with their order. Elias hadn’t said much, he didn’t need to just smile and remind her of a sibling’s regrettable passing. The fact the waitress had barely held it together to cry in the walk in, was amazing. The fact she’d come back trembling to take their dessert order was almost impressive. They split an order of pot de creme eating while Elias told her various tragedies and secrets the other guests had. 

After dinner, they waited for a cab outside and did bumps of cocaine, just a little off a knuckle, it wouldn’t get you too high. It smelled sweet and floral, her nose went numb, she felt a jolt of energy and a brief boost of pleasure.They kissed over and over and over again and over again. When she broke the kiss he playfully snapped at her, she giggled and leant down to be kissed again, his hand was on her bum. The sound of an idling motor made them stop for a moment, the cab was here. They got in the cab and continued to snog like teenagers, maybe the coke had gotten them higher than…she thought it would. But at that moment with the eyes of a stranger on them it felt amazing letting this person see them like this was intoxicating. She knew he enjoyed it, his eyes kept slipping over to the man driving them through the London night, a man who was blushing and trying so hard NOT to look. It encouraged Elias further, kissing and sucking at her neck, hands gripping her rear. She laughed and kissed him back. Why not? If Peter had his scotch they could do this.  
They were still making out when they entered the flat, Elias was behind her frantically kissing the back of her neck and she was grinding into him. She felt his fingers go to the zip on the back of her dress as he nudged the door close with a small kick. Peter wasn’t anywhere to be seen and she noticed the cold fog that swirled and billowed towards them. There he was. She stepped out of her dress underneath she was wearing the black lace bra and thong. She felt the cold grey fog caress her breasts and groin before it circled around to Elias and from the noises Elias was making Peter had definitely arrived. She turned to them locked in an embrace, kissing, one of Peter’s hands was on Elias’s chest the other on over his cock. She took a step to fold up her dress but Elias hooked a finger around her bra strap and drew her back to him, his hands were running over her body and they were alternating between kissing.  
Finally they settled the waistband of her thong yanking it down, his fingers were inside of her feeling her, testing her.  
“Oh my Priss you are positively sodden.” Elias whispered in her ear.

“For you of course,” She purred.

“My eager aren’t we?” He said.

Peter was undoing Elias’s belt and unzipping his trousers. Elias took his fingers from inside and brought them to her lips; she licked them clean. He traced his fingers around her lips.

“You know what I want,” She said.

“Yes, but not just yet Priss, on your knees,” He said.

She sank down to her knees just as Peter took down Elias’s boxers. She took Elias in her mouth, he tasted like skin and soap, he was hard in her mouth. She heard him give a contented sigh as she began to suck down on him and then a small moan as Peter entered him from behind. She licked and tapped at the head of his cock with her tongue, moving in rhythm with Peter’s thrusts. Elias’s hands were twined in her hair as he began to fuck her mouth and throat. She kept up an even pressure breathing through her nose. She began to stroke his balls, as Peter gave one long deep thrust and that was the tipping point. Elias swore loudly, held her head down and came down her throat. She got up and poured herself a glass of water and drank it. She noticed the big windows in the flat were wide open and the lights were on, she grinned and removed her bra stretched and shook herself, displaying her naked body to Elias, Peter and of course anyone and everyone watching.  
Both of them were hard again, she wondered if this was a gift from their patrons, almost instantaneous refractory periods. Their eyes were hungry and on her, the shiver that ran down her spine was not from terror but anticipation, little thrills of warmth pooling at her groin. She put her hand out, Peter took a step forward, but Elias cut in front of him.

“Darling I won the bet,” Elias said glibly . “I get her first.”

“Very well,” Peter sighed. “I already had you dear.”

Elias smiled up at Peter. “Yes, you certainly did and you can watch us.”

“Hmmm,” Peter commented.

“How do you want me luv?” She purred, biting her lip.

“Hmmmm,” He murmured, turning her from him and running a hand down the length of her back. “Outwards the world, let them see you, Priss.”

She stood in front of that wide window, London spread out beneath her and around her, naked save for the choker still around her neck.  
His hands were caressing her breasts, fingers pinching at her nipples, she moaned the feeling, his face was buried in her neck. Peter was sitting on the couch, watching them and touching himself. Elias entered her with a sigh and began to fuck her.

She pushed into his body his hands were still on her breasts as she ground into him She felt the sensations ring out inside of her, building rings upon ring of pleasure with each movement, feeling him fucking her, riding his cock as people watched, getting their dirty little thrill, she wondered who wished they were getting fucked so well and it sent a stab of pleasure sharp and deep inside of her. She matched his movements, echoing and mirroring and when she came, she called out his real name. He groaned into her ear and rewarded her by continuing a hand going down to her clit as she came again, a third time and he’d come as well. Her knees were weak and wobbling when he stepped away. She hardly had time to do anything as Peter left the couch and gathered her up in his cold arms.

“You’re up captain,” she slurred, a bit dazed from the latest round.

Peter smiled at her and shoved into her, a jolt of cold inside of her she shivered and clenched around every thick and pulsing inch, wrapping her legs around his hips and riding him hard despite the cold, despite the fact it hurt more than she thought. She caught Elias’ eye as she did, he was watching them fuck grinning, waiting his turn, so she redoubled her efforts, meeting each shove, push and thrust of Peter’s monstrous cock, until screaming she came, and Peter came. She could feel his seed, dribbling down her thighs when he unceremoniously rolled off her. She felt so lucky for the IUD she had in. She watched now as Peter sucked Elias off. Letting herself warm up and rest for a moment. It was just a moment, as the two of them had plans for her soon she had Elias’ cock in her arse and Peter’s cock in her mouth, fucking her as they kissed over her. Elias pinched her hips, slapped her arse, and Peter refrained from touching her, this much physical intimacy was probably going to lessen his connection to The Lonely already. Didn’t matter, it felt fantastic getting rammed by him.  
~~~~~~  
By Sunday evening she was sore, very tired, could hardly walk or sit, dizzy, bruised, bitten and needed a long soak in a hot bath at home, but she left with a big grin on her face. It was a good hurt, everyone had been pleased and she certainly had been put through her paces. She was lucky that she’d be on desk duty at work next shift, she hoped she could sneak in that donut pillow she had.  
As she ran the bath she reflected on the heavy bruising on her neck… she would definitely be getting out the concealer for this, she did like a bit of choking but Peter had taken it too far. Elias had encouraged him to try it and the swimmy feeling she got when his big hands were around her throat as he fucked her, made the sex so much better, but then her vision had gone black and when she awoke minutes later, she saw Elias and Peter huddled and talking.

“She kept saying kiwi, Elias.” Peter whispered.

“That’s the safe word, Peter, you do know what a safe word is?” Elias sighed boredly.

“Erm…” Peter hesitated. “Can you explain it to me again ?”

“Quite,” Elias hissed. “You are lucky you didn’t kill her.”

“I—didn’t?” Peter began sounding both relieved and confused.  
~~~~  
Anyhow Priss couldn’t complain, she was after all alive. The bath was wonderfully hot and soothed her sore body, she sank into it with a pleasured sigh She let mind drift over the last two days, a sex filled melange of body parts, wine, drugs all of it hazy and soaked with pleasure. She really did enjoy serving them like this and part liked seeing them undone by pleasure, so great, and terrible and yet remaining just human enough. The water was cooling slowly and Priss was soaking in it, letting all the tension melt away from her. The doorbell rang, she wasn’t expecting anyone but she slipped on a white terry cloth bathrobe and slippers and went to the door.

“Who is it?” She asked not, bothering to open the door yet.

“Detective Slocum and Detective Khan of the Metropolitan Police,” Came the answer.

She opened the door, standing there was a larger middle aged woman with a face like a toothache and a tall bearded, turbaned Sikh police officer.

“Are you really?” Priss asked suspiciously “Show me your badges.”

Sighing both got out their badges, she looked them over, seemed real enough, nothing about either officer seemed off in a way she’d been warned about.

“We’d like to ask you some questions about a number of suspicious deaths in your ward at the Royal London Hospital Chelsea between 2003 and 2005,” Said Detective Khan.

She felt her heart plunge, her pulse quicken, and there was screaming in her head. However, she made sure none of this was visible outwardly, she met the gazes of both the detectives calmly and her face showed no emotion.

“Oh?” She said. “If you excuse me I need to call my solicitor, before I’m answering any questions.”

“Noted,” said Detective Slocum.

She closed the door on the detectives. She breathed, five deep breaths always helped her get her head straight.  
She needed to find her phone, she needed to call Elias he’d know what to do wouldn’t he? She was sure that Gertrude was behind this somehow, some way. She peeped through the curtains as the detectives left, watching their retreating backs as they went into their car and drove away. She called Elias on the phone, it rang for a very long time before it was answered.

“Hello Priss,” Elias said. “What did I tell you about calling me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m very sorry, I wouldn’t unless—“ She began.

“I call you,” Elias said. “You don’t call me, Priss dear, you know that it’s been part of our arrangement since day one.”

“yes… it’s just, I’ve run up a bit of trouble and I thought you could help me,” She said. “I’m sorry Jonah, I’m so sorry but—“

“—No need to continue, I will hang up shortly, this is your own fault, maybe you got a bit sloppy,” He said. “And you know I cannot help you, even if I wanted to.”

“Can you at least—?” She began.

He sighed. “The institute uses a firm called Lowell, Reynard, Guja and Weaver, I will text you their information tomorrow when I’m at work.”

Then he ended the call. She sighed, her shoulders slumped sadly. He was right about all of it. 

~~~~  
Elias did text her the relevant information the next day and after her shift she made a call to the law firm: she explained her situation, and who had recommended her. Their retainer was rather steep, but if they the firm the institute used, then it was worth it. She was calculating in her head how much of her salary that would be from each week and it scared her. Priss explained the situation to her new solicitor, who told her the only evidence the police really had was that she was in the ward when the deaths happened and that she was right not to answer questions. They also told her that her presence in the ward at the time was enough evidence to arrest her. So that wasn’t great, however it wasn’t dire news. She just hoped they wouldn’t look into the disappearance of her second husband and his nephew again, all they’d need to do was get a warrant and dig up the concrete patio behind the house, wouldn’t they?

~~~~~~~  
The ‘lunch date’ with Elias that Wednesday had been on the calendar for a month. Despite the current circumstances she would not disappoint him or leave him wanting. He needed this, Peter had left on the Tundra monday of that week and as far she knew he had no one else at the moment he could rely on for this very intimate need. Besides she wasn’t working until the evening, she dressed nice, nothing slutty, nothing that wouldn’t be considered business casual: a blue cotton blouse, a knee length skirt in grey with stockings, heels, her hair up in a bun and her makeup light and natural and of course bowling bags style purse that could hide all manner of sins.  
She walked up the familiar stairs to Elias’s office, her heels clacking on the floor. She could feel him watching her walk as she ascended. The door was cracked, she could hear the steady and familiar tick of the clock as she slipped through the door. He was smiling deviously at her from behind his desk, everything squared away.

“Hello Priss,” He purred. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

She smiled back, knowing his eyes weren’t on her face but rather the v in her skirt where her legs met. “Have you Luv?”

She closed the distance between them, he rose from his desk and kissed her deeply. She could feel his erection pressing against her thigh.

“Yes,” He hissed her ear. “Thinking of your quim: tight as miser’s purse and wet as an eel.”

“Mmmmmm,” she rubbed against him and kissed him again. “Not too distracting I hope.”

“No, just something to look forward to,” He said, then planted a line of kisses on her neck and nibbled at her.

“How do you want me,” She murmured. “Jonah?”

“Bent over my desk, knickers down,” He whispered slyly.

She turned to face the room and bent over the desk, hands resting on the edge. He tugged her underwear down, She could hear his belt and zip being undone. Then she felt him enter her, every inch of him. He gave a satisfied hiss, gripped her hips and began to fuck her; hard. The desk creaked, the clock ticked and she felt the pleasure building and blossom with each thrust, each deep stroke, she ground against him pushing back against him. It felt glorious, her eyes were closed and she was lost in the sensations building inside of her, getting so strong she bit her lips so hard. Then he whispered in her ear:  
“Open your eyes.”

And she did, the door of the office was half open. There was a man, with a round face and long blond hair —an archival assistant maybe?- watching them. His eyes round as saucers, his mouth agape, obviously shocked, one hand gripping a sheath of papers, and the other well that was in his trouser pocket palming himself. That’s when Elias sped up the pace and she let out a moan, it was almost too much over and over again. The man was still watching them, eyes getting glazed. She smiled and winked right at him. His hand dropped from his pocket, his mouth went wide, he colored and ran. That’s when it became too much, she bit down hard on her lip hard and felt a trickle of blood, then the tide of pleasure crashed into her, drowning her and she came, knees buckling. She heard Elias curse and cry out as she spasmed around him. This was enough for a weekday.  
She steadied herself, bending over she grabbed her underwear, and used it as a makeshift rag to wipe up the cum dripping down her leg. He was already stretching, zipping and buckling.

“Who was that peeping tom?” She asked.

“Him? Micheal Shelley,” Elias said. “He seemed to enjoy himself.”

‘Hmmm he did,” she said reaching in her purse and getting a clean pair of underwear and shimmying them up her legs. “Sorta ya know adorable.”

“Quite,” Elias said with a smile as he smoothed down his hair.

They kissed a few times, before she left. She was feeling quite good, going down the stairs, a nice contented afterglow sweeping over her as she crossed the lobby. She was leaving the building, just as Gertrude entered the building. Priss scowled at the old woman. Gertrude’s gaze slid down to Priss’s purse and the cum stained panties poking out of the top, she wrinkled her nose and her eyes grew dark.

“You disgust me,” Gertrude said.

“Ditto.” Priss sneered. “I know you’re cause the trouble I’m having now.’

“What trouble dearie?” Gertrude asked.

Priss didn’t want to say anything, she wanted to walk away, but she couldn’t stop herself, it felt odd pins and needles and wrenching inside as she spoke. “The trouble I’m in with the police.”

Gertrude laughed at her. “Now I can’t entirely take credit for that, but I did point out some interesting coincidences to certain members of police force”

“You think I’ll give you, a statement if you point the finger at me?” Priss asked.

“Maybe not now, with that thing’s jizz cooling in you, but you will soon,” Gertrude said.

“Fuck off,” Priss said, stuffing the panties deeper in the purse and walking off.


	19. silent threats and silken threads.

~~~~~~~~January 2006~~~~~~~~~  
Her lawyer was an attractive South Asian woman called Kanti Das. They made an appointment with the metropolitan police to answer their questions. Detective Slocum and Detective Khan sat across from them in the interview room. She knew they were being recorded, she kept her face impassive.

“Records show that you were working the night Joseph Doran died in March 2003 in your ward and that you were one of the nurses attending Mr. Doran,” Said Detective Khan.

She looked at her lawyer who nodded.

“Yes,” She said. She tried to remember him, oh yes the cheeky old Irish gent, she’d liked him, He hadn’t been any trouble, she hadn’t touched him.

“The autopsy revealed that Mr. Doran had twice the recommended dose of morphine in his system when he died,” Detective Slocum said.

“I wasn’t the last one to see him,” She said, that was true, she hadn’t been, there was a very loud drunk with a broken leg that had come in from causality and was insisting they could still walk.

“Who was?” Detective Slocum asked.

“Nurse Teke and Dr. Morello,” She said. “I think.”

“You think?” Detective Khan raised his eyebrow.

“Burak Teke claims they were trying to restrain a drunk with a broken leg,” Said Detective Slocum.

“Yeah I was helping them,” She said. Her memory floated back, and she could clearly picture the earnest round face of Nurse Teke hovering over that awful drunk with her.

“Hmmm,” Detective Khan murmured. “That’s what they said.”

The questions went on like that for a while, some of the patients she remembered, some she didn’t, and some she did kill, but others she assumed had passed naturally. She gave natural non-committal answers, confirming something and denying others, keeping as passive as she could.

“Angela Pettigrew, you were the last nurse to attend her and you called the code,” Said Detective Solcum.

That dead bitch, how had they even known!? She kept her face impassive and looked at her lawyer who nodded.

“As far as I know, her death was natural,” Priss said.

“Really? Her son David had her exhumed and what they found in her system was highly suspect,” Said Detective Khan.

“Why don’t you ask Dr. Morello, she was in charge of Mrs. Pettigrew’s care,” Priss said looking at her lawyer.

“Oh we did she said you were the last person to see Mrs. Pettigrew,” Said Detective Khan.

“But she was Dr. Morello’s patient,” Priss said. “The records will show that she was pronounced dead by Dr. Morello.”

Detective Khan sighed and looked away.

“There is a lot of mystery around you Miss Abbott, they never did find your second husband Nick and nephew Cartland do you know what happened?’ Asked Detective Solcum.

Priss’s eyes narrowed and she bit her lip, they couldn’t do this could they?

Then the lawyer said: “That has nothing to do with the current case, detective. My client is not going to answer any questions about that.”

Detective Slocum looked like she was ready to punch the lawyer but just swallowed and said nothing. Detective Khan looked impassive.

“Errm, right,” Detective Khan began.

“Do you have any other questions pertaining to the current case?” Asked the Lawyer.

“No, she’s free to go.” Sighed Detective Khan.

They left the police station.

“Thank you Miss Das, that was a close one, don’t need the coppers’ sniffing around me too much,” Priss holding her hand out her lawyer.

“No need, it’s just my job,” Said the lawyer taking her hand.

Priss noticed the gold ring on her lawyer’s finger had a spider web pattern and there were strands of webbing on the corner of her briefcase.

“Thank you anyhow,” Priss said and let go of her hand.

The lawyer left and they went their separate ways.

Priss’s phone vibrated.

❤️EBJ❤️  
You acquitted yourself well, Priss.  
Good girl.

She felt the warmth spread from her smile down to her middle.

Her shift started, it was mostly boring at this time, until Harry Barnes woke up and started blabbing about auras and meat. Apparently the poor man used to work at a takeaway in Walthamstow. He was replaced by the owner’s nephew, went vegan, new age and had a pretty severe mental breakdown, sometimes he took meds for it, but he didn’t like them and this was why he was here.  
According to the other nurses if you could distract him by asking him to solve crosswords and the like.  
Priss walked into the day room with a book of crosswords in hand. Then Harry Barnes looked at her and his eyes went wide with terror he began to point at her and scream:  
“BLACK AURA! BLACK AURA! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!? BLACK AURA! IT SUCKS THE LIGHT FROM THE ROOM! YOU’RE A MONSTER I CAN SEE THE GHOSTS OF THE DEAD CIRCLING YOU!”

Another nurse, Christine came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder:

“Harry, that’s nurse Abbott, this the first time you’ve been awake when she’s on shift, she’s not a bad person. Calm down Harry, these things aren’t real.”

He shrugged her off and ran into the corner of the room: “I don’t want the monster near me, she’s evil… please please just make her leave.”

Nurse Christine shrugged. “I think you better maybe go to the front desk, Priscilla.”

In that moment, Priss felt him looking through her eyes at the cowering figure in the corner. Something had happened to Harry Barnes, something the institute wanted to know about. Something Elias wanted to hear.

Sitting at the desk she turned on her phone and googled: ‘Takeaway Walthamstow.’ She grinned reading the sensationalized headlines, she remembered hearing about the story last year, so one of the powers was involved in that? She could guess which one. No wonder Harry cracked. It wasn’t surprising Elias perked up, the Eye would like this.  
The next day Harry Barnes got a call and was lucid enough to take it. She was still on front desk duty and it was visit hours when a familiar figure came up the desk. Micheal Shelley saw her and blushed, tried not to make eye contact. She looked at him directly.

“Hullo luv, fancy seeing you here,” She said.

“Errrm, yes well this is a coincidence, … errmmm uhhhhh….” He said with a nervous titter.

“Here to get a statement, are we?” Priss said eyes twinkling, she could feel Elias behind her eyes.

“Errm, y-yes…” He looked down at his shoes.

“Well you better sign in then,” She said cheerfully. “Mr. Barnes is in the dayroom waiting for you.”

“Uhh, right, ok” Micheal Shelley said, taking a pen furtively and signing the book.

“Right then,” She stepped out behind. her desk. “Here’s the visitor name tag, you need to clip it to your jumper.”  
She handed him the name tag, for a moment their hands touch, his skin was soft and warm.

He startled, eyes widening. “Oh! Thanks.”

She watched him fumble with the visitor tag, making two attempts before finally clipping it on his collar.

“Now I have to walk you to the day room, Luv,” She said and started down the hallway.

“Right,” He followed along.

The hallway was empty and smelled like disinfectant and cheap cleaning products.

“I know you liked what you saw the other day,” She started.

“O-oh, look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— “ He began.

“No, I liked it. You were watching me getting fucked by your boss,” She said slyly.

“Errrmmmm uhhh…” And then he just began to laugh nervously, covering his face.

“It’s adorable, sorta cheeky,” She said walking closer to him.

He smelled like the wool of his jumper and hint of soap, his long blond curly hair flowed down his shoulders and was held back by a hair tie. She wondered if she could take him to the broom cupboard and… mmmm no, he’d probably cum as soon she got his pants down and apologize about it, humans did that.

“…You liked it?” He began his nervousness fading.

She nodded. “I mean it’s not that you are getting it regularly, I bet with those scuffed shoes and the hours you work. Why not? Let you enjoy it, I bet you still wank to it.”

He gulped and looked up at the ceiling. “Well… uh...I-I-I guess… um... shouldn’t we be getting to the day room?”

“Yeah,” She walked ahead of him, swinging her hips, knowing he was watching her arse.

She knew then Elias dropped the info in her head; Micheal Shelley, 30 years old, bisexual. Surprising, he looked much younger. And yes, his sex life was as desolate as she had guessed. He’d had better luck with men in the past. While he liked women, he’d freeze up around them, like he was doing now. Men it was easier to be direct with. She grinned a little wider. Poor, sad little thing.

The day room door came into view.

“Ah, here we are,” She said and turned around to head back to the desk.

“…ank you,” He said quietly to her retreating back.

She was sitting at the desk ten minutes later. She looked up from her phone when he came out.

“…That was quick,” She said.

“Errmm, Mr. Barnes wasn’t-” He laughed nervously. “-Lucid enough to give a statement it seems.”

“Oh,” She looked down at her phone, Elias would be disappointed, not good. Her lawyer was texting something too.

“Ermm, Nurse Abbott? Errrm Priscilla, I was ermmm.. wondering if… maybe… you’d like to get a coffee with me?” He stumbled out.

She looked up at him, he was blushing. She couldn’t help but think that he reminded her of a sad puppy. “No, I’m sorry, I’m with your boss, I don’t think I could.”

“Oh,” He sounded hurt. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“Goodbye, Micheal Shelley.”

He left and her phone buzzed.

Kanti Das 👩🏽💼Lawyer💼  
THEY JUST ARRESTED DR. MORELLO!  
THEY GOT TONS OF EVIDENCE ON HER!  
YOU ARE IN THE CLEAR!!!!

Priss gave a little involuntary squeal, before putting her hand back to her mouth.

Then another text

❤️EBJ❤️

Good girl, Priss.  
Turns out Dr. Morello was doing the same 🙂 we’ll celebrate tonight. I’ll bring something.  
Is it too cold for the patio? 😉  
She smiled and texted back:

Yes, bring some Moët & Chandon please?🥺  
Patio….🤣 that’s a good one.

~~~~~~

Her shift had ended, she went home showered and changed into something cute and sexy. Priss was sitting on the couch at home watching the news. Dr. Antonia Morello was being taken away in cuffs on the news, apparently, they thought she was responsible for over two dozen deaths over a period of three years. Priss laughed at that. It was closer to half of that, but they didn’t need to know that.

Her phone buzzed, it was Elias texting that he was outside the door.

Priss was on her feet to the door quicker than anything and throwing it open. He smiled at her and she took his hand and pulled him into a kiss bumping the door closed with her hip. He deepened the kiss, and she held him closer. His breath was fresh and minty, so of course he had known what she’d do.

“Priss, darling this really has gotten excited hasn’t it.” He mildly but grinning wider when they eventually broke away.

“Oh you’ll see, I hope you are prepared for tonight, luv,” She said.

The images of what she planned on doing flashed across her mind.

“Oh?… oh…on a weeknight, though?” He began. “Well, I could come in a bit later for work, if you plan on attempting to …wear me out.”

He was still holding a large bottle of Moët & Chandon champagne. She went to the kitchen and got out the wine glasses as he settled himself on the couch. She had just set down the wine glasses when the doorbell rang.

“Ugh,” She groaned. “Who is that? Actually it doesn’t matter, I’m not gettin’ it, Luv.”

“You should answer it,” Elias said mildly, his eyes glimmering.

She slumped, grimaced and got back up. She opened the door. It was her lawyer Kanti Das, who had a bottle of some sort of rosé and looked hopeful.

“Hello, I’m sorry I just wanted to congratulate you,” Kanti Das said as she looked at Priss, all dolled up, “You look busy though?”

“Thank you dear, I do have company right now…” Priss began.

“—Kanti Das is here, tell her to come in,” Elias said from inside.

“Come in, I guess,” Priss said, feeling a bit helpless.

“Elias Bouchard, head of the Magnus Institute, I presume?” Kanti said.

“Guilty as charged,” Elias replied with an easy smile. “Aren’t you Stephen Weaver’s young protégé?”

She blushed and looked away: “Well I wouldn’t say that—“

“Stephen speaks highly of you and I’ve been watching your progress, very impressive I must say,” Elias said.

“Thank you, Stephen sends his regards, by the way, your Institute is one of our best clients,” She said, walking over to Elias.

Priss felt a bit lost.  
“Should I get another glass?” Priss offered.

“Yes, do,” Elias said. “And pour some champagne.”

“You have champagne..?” Kanti began and looked sadly at her bottle.

“Well, the more the merrier,” Elias smirked.

“Oh!” Kanti blushed, she caught up to Priss. “This is for you Priscilla.”

She handed her the bottle of rosé.

“Ta,” Priss said and got out a third glass.

That’s when she noticed the way Kanti was looking at her with those large dark liquid eyes, looking over her body with approval and lust. She caught Elias’s eye and he raised an eyebrow. Well now this evening could get interesting.  
~~  
Priss was sitting between Kanti and Elias, everyone had downed at least three glasses of champagne and they were talking about nothing of any real importance. The wine was flowing, cigarettes were smoked, in the house no less. Priss got up to go to the kitchen where she was pretty sure she had an ashtray. They were still talking when she finally found it and made her way back.

“—How’d you find her?” Kanti said. “I’ve had trouble finding a human that gets it…”

“Ah, it’s one the advantages the Eye has over the Web. I can see, I can know who they are and adjust accordingly,” Elias was saying. “I’ve calculated the numbers, Kanti. Finding someone like her is under one percent. Yes, it's easy enough to find those who are turned on by the fears, but it’s rare they are a suitable partner. To find one who is intelligent, mentally stable, accommodating and skilled at sex is rare indeed.” Elias said. “I know you want to see what she’s capable of, I’m sure she’ll have no problems as long I can join in.”

“About that Elias,” Kanti began. “I’m not sure if—“

“I know you find me attractive as well, however since we were in more formal situations, you couldn’t express it,” He said.

“That’s fair,” Kanti said and took a long drag on her cigarette.

Priss decided it was time to come in with the ashtray. She wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or flattered. Well, it was good that she was special.

She threw back another glass of champagne, turning to Kanti

“You want to see what I can do, Luv?” She asked.

She heard Elias shift closer in his seat.

“Erm well…” Kanti began. “Sure.”

She took Kanti’s face in her hands, her skin as soft and she smelled faintly like lavender and dust. She kissed her, Kanti deepening the kiss, her lips full and tender. She tasted like wine and cigarettes. It was luscious and sweet and it had been a while since Priss had kissed another woman. It felt so good, like swallowing mouthfuls of honey.  
Priss undid the buttons of Kanti’s blouse as they continued kissing, reaching into her bra and stroking her full round breasts. All anxiety was melting away as Kanti moaned into her mouth at the touch. Kanti’s hands were quick and nimble, skittering down her thighs and between her legs. They kissed and touched each other for a while, melting and stirring into each other. After so many creatures with the appearance of men, the soft smoothness of someone who yielded so easily to her touch was a pleasant change. Elias cleared his throat meaningfully. They paused, parting slowly.

“May I cut in?” Elias asked politely, despite his look of obvious hunger.

Kanti nodded with a sharp and eager smile.

“Of course, luv,” Priss said with a grin.

He kissed them twice, Priss first, long and lingering and warm. Kanti kissed him roughly and he kissed her back with equal passion. Priss kissed both of them, sampling the different sensations of their skin, smell and taste. They were all tumbling together soon enough; lips and tongues and hands and bodies, all moving and feeling as one. Soft skin and eager touches. They drank more of the wine, the bottle empty by the time they decided to go to the bedroom. Priss had already set up her bedroom expecting sex, so this was good. Clothes were coming off and each warm touch, each blossoming kiss made it better. The warmth spread from Priss’s groin up her spine and into the rest of her body. The wine was making her slightly dizzy. She giggled as she fell to the bed and pulled Kanti down with her. They rolled around, kissing and touching. Elias laid down next to them and they took no time at all to pounce on him, Kanti stealing more kisses and Priss taking him in her mouth. His hands groped at Kanti’s chest, pinching and twisting her nipples. When he came, he did so bucking and thrusting into Priss’s throat.  
Kanti was sandwiched in between them, Elias inside of her while Priss ate her out. The noises she made were obscene as they worked her towards orgasm. When she came her whole body shuddered and stuttered. They cuddled together, still for only a moment before Kanti got up to grab the other bottle of wine. It tasted like grapefruit, oddly enough.

“I know what you're thinking Ms. Das,” Elias purred. “And I wouldn’t be averse to it.”

“What?” Priss wondered. The image fell into her head “Oh. I’ve got rope in the shed.”

“No, I brought some in my bag,” Kanti said.

“Well I won’t expect less from a servant of the Web,” Elias said. “And you have at least one willing victim.”

She left the room to get the rope, Elias looked over at Priss.

“It’s been a while since I was utterly under someone else’s power.” He said. “I trust you will make sure our spider keeps her fangs in.”

“Don’t worry, luv,” She said and kissed him. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”  
He stared into her: “No you won’t,” He grinned wide and satisfied, “Darling Priss, so loyal.”

They finished their glasses of wine. Kanti returned with a long loop of white silk rope.

“I’m at your mercy, Ms. Das,” Elias said.

“Should I show you mercy, Mr. Bouchard?” Kanti said playfully.

Kanti’s dark eyes glimmered and her smile sharpened as she approached. Priss stood back taut and tense, watching, yes they just fucked but how much could they trust that lawyer?

He held his arms together over his head. Priss watched as Kanti looped the rope around and over his arms and hands. He let Kanti move him to the center of the bed and tie the rope to the headboard. He was smiling, and those lovely eyes of his never strayed far from Priss’s face. He seemed to drink in her discomfort as he let Kanti take out more rope, spread his legs and tie each ankle separately to each corner of the baseboard. His cock was fully erect.

Kanti tilted her head, smiled at him and then went and got the wine, pouring three glasses.

“I’m a bit thirsty from that, how about you?” She said and handed Priss a glass of wine.

Priss looked at Elias’s fading grin and then down at her glass of wine. She smiled at Kanti. “A bit.”

They took their time drinking down the wine and having a bit of faux- small talk.

“I’m sure you find this very amusing,” Elias said frustration creeping into his voice. “However shouldn’t you get to the business at hand?”

“Thirsty luv?” Priss said and sauntered over with the third glass of wine.

“Yes,” He glanced sideways at her. “Among other things.”

She put the glass of wine at his lips, tilted it and he drank it  
Kanti slid onto the bed, wrapping her hand around his erection. He made small contented noises as she began and he grew louder and louder as she continued. Priss was kissing him, lips, throat, shoulders collar bone. She paused over a nipple, he wasn’t looking at her, his gaze was focused on Kanti. Priss smiled, she knew how to get his attention. She bit down hard and he startled, jolting but unable to move far, his eyes shifting to her, he smiled.

“Darling?” She asked.

“..keep doing that…” He throatily.

She did it again and he moaned with pleasure. He grinned as she nibbled and kissed at his chest  
“Sit on my face, darling.”  
She smiled back at him and did as he asked. She could feel him humming, licking and sucking, that skilled tongue on her most sensitive parts. Even without his fingers inside of her, stroking and beckoning, it felt so good. Kanti had mounted him and was riding him hard. It just excited him, sucking down hard on Priss’s clit like he didn’t need to breathe and licking her with long, broad strokes. She felt it, the rings of pleasure blossoming to from her groin to every nerve in her body. She ground down on to him, calling out as the pleasure grew and grew and her brain seemed to melt and dissolve in sensation. She came and he just kept going. Priss came again and again as she shrieked and shuddered, utterly overwhelmed. She rolled off, panting into the bedsheets. Kanti was cursing and shaking on top of him. They hadn’t tied down his hips after all. It was one thing blacking out, it was another to watch the effect on Kanti who slumped, eyes rolling up and closing as she came the last time. She fell off the bed with a thud. Priss laughed and Elias chuckled. Priss finished Elias off, licking the other woman’s juices off him, sucking him until he came. Kanti Das woke up and saw Priss above her legs dangling off the bed. Priss gave her a look and a grin, spreading wider. Kanti got in-between her legs and began to kiss her inner thighs, creeping closer and closer.

The wine and the sex blurred, hours spent entangled merged together. Lips and skin and sweat and cum, it was quite amazing really. Elias was very happy as they used him for their own pleasure and his. He was right about one thing, Priss was beyond exhausted and sore and those two were still going. After one last session, she laid down utterly spent Watching as Elias slipped his bonds and mounted a giggling Kanti from behind. Let them, she thought, I need rest. In the morning she was aching, her head hurt and she was sore all over. Elias and Kanti were actually asleep, Kanti was somehow sleeping taped to the ceiling. Elias, as always, had taken up the middle of the bed. Priss stretched, yawned and walked off to get herself a well-needed shower. When she was done, she put on her robe. Kanti was still snoozing on the ceiling but Elias had moved into the kitchen, sitting at the table and smiling at his phone.

“I expect you want breakfast, luv.” She sighed.

He nodded: “If it’s not to much trouble?”  
It sounded like a question but she knew it wasn’t.

“Full English or just toast?” She asked.

“The first,” he said not looking up from his phone.

She sighed, it was too early, couldn’t he even make a bowl of cereal? No, he was above mere cookery. She made breakfast in silence. There was a ripping noise and loud skittering noise from the bedroom.

“Ms. Das is awake,” Elias said mildly.

The shower was running now. The breakfast was almost done. Kanti emerged from the bathroom looking well dressed and in control as if nothing had happened last night.

“Oh, that toast smells delish!” She exclaimed, taking a slice.

Priss had finished cooking and they ate. Getting food and a cuppa inside of her really helped, everything seemed better and clearer.

Elias chuckled at something on his phone.

“Yes?” Priss asked.

He grinned, “It’s from Gertrude. All caps. She is in quite a temper…”

Everyone laughed, they didn’t even have to read it.


	20. Goodbye, hello.

Chapter 19  
~~~~~March to May 2006~~~~~~

Things had shifted, Elias kept cancelling on her. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if Simon was in the country, Rayner wasn’t firmly in the clutches of that jealous Ennis woman, and Frederika Baur hadn’t left the civilized world to hunt in some forest in Bulgaria. So her days became a slow grind, she hardly even felt Elias looking through her. She remained hopeful, he was busy after all, there had been other times when he’d been just as distant. He came back eventually. Then the news came that the law firm of Lowell, Reynard, Guja and Weaver had burned down. All the senior partners were in the building at the time and perished in the flames, so had Kanti Das. She wondered who was behind it.  
It was mid-April when Elias made another Wednesday lunch date, Priss wore the blue dress he liked and made her way to the Magnus Institute. He smiled when he saw her, there was something in that smile, something sharp and cold, his eyes firmly fixed on her face.  
That didn’t imply anything good for her.

“Ah, Priss, do sit down,” He said, gesturing to the chair in front of the desk.

She did so, she crossed her legs and uncrossed them, there was a flicker of something. Lust? Embarrassment? Then his eyes went back to her face. His neatly manicured hands were resting on the desk and she couldn’t help but notice the wedding band on his left hand, interwoven silver and gold, it was custom, must have cost a fortune.

“I can guess why you’re being so formal, luv,” She said.

“You were always very intelligent,” He said. “Peter and I have become engaged and we intend to get a civil union.”

“Congratulations, you seem happy,” She said trying to keep the pain out of her voice.

“Yes, I am.” He remarked. “While you have been such a dear comfort in the past…we should see less of each other.”

Her heart was sinking, she could feel an overwhelming urge to sob and crumple. No, it would never do to make a scene, she kept her face impassive. After all, she was just the side piece, no importance, really. His eyes glimmered and his smile widened.

“Oh, so goodbye then luv?” She said mildly. She didn’t choke on the words, she didn’t stumble, she didn’t let him see, though she was fully aware that he knew already.

“For now,” He said. “There may be times in the future when I need you.”

There was a hunger in his eyes, but it wasn’t for her body. Though if she tried, if she so much as brushed his hand, then he’d pounce and she’d fall apart in his arms. She didn’t want to end with regretful sex while he greedily devoured her tears. No. No, he had Peter, he loved Peter and she was just a human.  
A human whose body was easily used and discarded.  
A human who fed him.

“Alright,” She said. “When you need me, I’ll be there, but I see that you don’t now. So I’ll be off.”

She got up and began to leave.

“Did you hear about Miss Das? They only could identify her body through dental records” He said looking at his computer.

“Yes, very sad.” She said. “I really wished I could have known her better. Was it Gertrude?”

He looked up, blinked and grinned, “Oh no, it was a former client of theirs, a very… desolate …. one, apparently didn’t want to pay the fees. Anything that survived the fire was transferred to us.”

“Mmmm,” She shrugged. “Well, goodbye for now, luv.”

“Goodbye Priss.” He said, ignoring her and going back to his work.  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
It had been a month since she’d heard from anyone so when her phone rang and it was Simon’s ringtone, she answered it immediately. 

“Hullo?” She said.

The sound of wind rushing was loud and she vaguely heard someone’s tearful prayer in the far distance. Ah, it was an accidental call.

“HELLO!” Simon shouted. “THE RECEPTION ISN’T SO GREAT UP HERE, PRISS.”

She giggled. “Calling me on the job are we?”

The wind was rushing, words were cut off and muffled. Then there was an abrupt THUD and the soft shuffling sounds of someone righting themselves.

“Did you get that, dear?” He asked.

“No.” She admitted.

“I was saying I have a friend, a young chap, Mike, I think you two would get on famously.” He said.

“Are you setting me up?” She asked.

“Yes,” He said. “Young Mike serves that same patron as myself, and I recently got an invite to another Bouchard-Lukas wedding, I figured…”

“…Well, yes you don’t have to,” Priss said.

“No, I don’t, but he needs a bit of your special brand of care,” Simon suggested.

“Oooh does he?” Priss said, feeling flattered.

“So you want to meet him?” Simon asked

Priss shrugged, “I’ll give it a go.”

“Good! I’ll give you the details…” Simon said and began to tell her about Mike Crew.

She hadn’t been on a date like this for about ten years. They were meeting at a rooftop bar, she wouldn’t have expected anything less from an avatar of the Vast. He could very well throw her off it and into an endless sky if he so chose. It terrified her, but more than that, she felt a thrill of anticipation. All of her lovers could have killed her and that’s what made it fun. She got on the lift, pressed the button for the top floor and waited. She’d dressed nice, but not showy, this was a first date after all. Simon had told her about the scar, not to mention it or stare at it. It would be hard since it sounded so fascinating, however, she wanted to appear to be respectful. If he wanted to show her he would.  
The sky above the bar was an endless light grey. He was sitting at a table by the metal guard railing, he was wearing a navy blue turtleneck and brown trousers. He already had a pint of beer sitting on the table. He was framed against the sky and she felt herself shiver as she walked up to him. 

“Mike? Mike Crew?” She asked.

“Yes, Priscilla right?” He said. He got to his feet, he was short and the scar on his face was ….she looked him in the eyes. He had such pale and lovely eyes. “Simon said you’d be tall, but I didn’t think you’d be that tall.”

“Is that alright?” She felt nervous, what if instead of dying, it just fizzled out awkwardly now.

He smiled, “No, I like it.”

He extended his hand and she took it. The wind rushed through her and she felt herself falling, it was amazing. She came to her senses once he let go.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” She said trying to hide her excitement.

He looked at his shoes, blushing, his smile grew wider. “Same.”

She got a glass of red wine and they made small talk, mostly about their mutual acquaintances and, well, the weather.

“…I can tell you one thing, the meteorologists are wrong, there isn’t going to be a storm tonight, some rain, yeah but not a storm,” He said. He’d almost finished his pint, he was getting a bit flushed. “Trust me, I’d know.”

“Hmmm fair enough,” She said, looking into a mostly finished glass of wine. It was hard not to stare at it, she wanted to touch it, to trace the branching lines over his face and down… She stared harder into her glass.

She felt his foot brush against her ankle. She looked up, his eyes were so light and lovely and he had a cheeky grin on his face, he was flirting with her, the tease.

“So tell me about yourself, how’d you get into… this?” He asked. “I mean I’m not saying no to you but… well.. how’d you end up dating people like me?”

“Elias, I met him when he was first well, Elias and he showed me things, I realized I wasn’t into regular folk as much,” She said, downing her wine.

“Ah, why aren’t you serving a fear?” He asked. “I mean you’ve been at it for a bit, why not skip this and choose one?”

“Because it’s not about the fears, yes they are great and terrible, but I’m more into those who serve them. It’s the difference between liking a band for their music and being a groupie. Only you are so much more than human, you’re like demigods,” She said.

He blushed deep pink and closed his eyes for a moment, his scar was white against his blushes. He opened his eyes, his smile was devious. “Demigod eh? I've never been called that before….”

“Don’t be hard on yourself,” She said and leaned over the table, she could smell him, he smelled like ozone. “You are the most spectacular people and it’s very attractive.”

He put his hand over hers, the wind rushed through her again, the endless grey sky all around her and she was falling, her heart was thumping and …. He withdrew his hand.

“I think we both need another drink,” He said. She hummed an agreement.

They drank more and she watched as his shoulders relaxed and he grew a bit more expansive. They somehow got on the subject of fair rides and rollercoasters.

“You’ve been to Thorpe Park right?” He asked.

“Oooh Yes,” She said. “I went all the time as a girl, I really love a good rollercoaster, nothing like that feeling, you know.”

He smiled. “Yes I do, I really do. You haven’t been since you were a child though?”

“No,” She admitted. “I’d really love to do something like that again, feel my heart in my throat and have the wind rushing around me like that again.”

He grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.”

They talked more, drank more and somehow ended up taking a cab back to her place. They had been flirting and drinking all night.

“Hey Mike, you wanna come in for a coffee?” She asked.

He smiled and shrugged: “Sure why not.”  
He was flushed from the booze and she wasn’t exactly sober herself, but neither of them were that drunk. Besides, she wanted to touch him again.  
They got in, he sat down on her couch and she settled down next to him. She looked at him and he looked at her, she laughed nervously. Oh, this felt so strange, then he fake causally yawned and draped an arm over her shoulders. He pulled her close, he smelled like ozone. She was looking directly into those eyes.

“I think I’d like to kiss you,” He said.

“You can do that,” She said with a soft grin. 

He did and the world dropped away. She was high above it, an endless, infinite sky and the wind was rushing all around. She was falling, oh she was falling and it was glorious. She could taste him and feel his arms around her, warm and sure as they fell. So they kissed, again and again, and again. Their kisses deepening each time they split apart to breath and came back together. He was on top of her now, her hands in his hair, his hands unbuttoning her top. She could feel him hard against her, pressing into her, She ground into him and was rewarded by a small bitten off moan. She needed more of this high, of the thrill that ran though her, she needed him.

She stopped, sitting up swiftly.

“What did I do… wrong?” He started nervously.

“I want to have sex with you.” She said, plainly. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears. “Do you want that Mike?”

“Yes, of course,” He replied, eyes wide and ravenous.

“Then we’re going to the bedroom.” She got up and began to walk, giving him a little wiggle. He followed hungrily. 

The light in her bedroom was dim as she undressed hastily, as he watched, mouth agape on the bed, still fully dressed.

“Oh right,” He said, startling as he realised. He took off his shoes, socks, shucked off his trousers and his y-fronts. She could see the creeping pattern of the scar on his torso and a few branching patterns snaking near his groin but not on it. He didn’t remove his turtleneck and she didn’t ask him too.  
She laid down next to him and put a hand on his back.  
“Are you alright?”

“It’s just… been a while since I… well this...” He said gesturing to her, the bed, his own erection.

“You’ll be fine, luv,” She said and kissed him.

She could feel herself plummeting, her blood rushing as she enjoyed the taste of ozone on his tongue. He smiled and mounted her, moaning softly when he slid in. Every thrust he made and movement she mirrored, felt like the curves of a rollercoaster, soaring and plunging, racing and diving. They moved in tandem and she could feel the warm pulse of pleasure at the base of her spine, coming over her and consuming her. Oh, he was a wonder. When she wrapped her legs around him he sighed and groaned, she squeezed tighter, he thrust harder and she was up above the clouds and falling. She screamed and screamed, oh this was amazing. Fast, hard, and the rush of it was like it was inside of her, the rise and fall, the whole endless vast building inside of her. His hands gripped and pulled at her breasts. She came hard and he shuddered with a moan, pumping and shooting into her as the sky faded. He collapsed on her as she held him, their hearts beating so fast.

“Was that good?” He asked.

“That was amazing, you were amazing.” She cooed.

He smiled hazily at her, they kissed again. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her long brown hair. He sighed. He still hadn’t taken off his turtleneck. 

“I haven’t done anything like this, for a while,” he admitted.

“It’s fine luv, it must be hard to have a relationship with regular humans when you are practically a demigod,” She said.

“Yeah,” He said. “Before I was… this …nearly ten years ago at uni, there was a girl, Alice she was… sweet, - far too good for me. I was being chased by dangerous things, and while I didn’t love her. I didn’t want her to get hurt because of me. So I broke it off.”

“It’s been that long luv?” Priss asked sympathy creeping into her voice.

“Well, there have been a few others, most aren’t into a short guy with a weird scar,” he said with a rueful laugh. “Those that are, they mostly want to talk about my scar or touch it. I don’t like that.”

A hint of danger crept into his tone.

“And you’re not into most people right?” Priss said snuggling close to him.

“No, not like that,” he said. “I mean, I like women, I think, but your average woman doesn’t do it for me, anyhow. I think the last time I got laid was …. Two years ago. Huh… wow.”

“And you held back didn’t you?” Priss said, rubbing into him.

He laughed and pressed into her. “Yeah, I did. Didn’t want to scare her.”

She could feel him getting hard again.”Round two?”

He kissed the back of her neck as a form of agreement, she was free-falling and it was amazing. “Sure.”

They had sex two more times that night. He didn’t remove the turtle neck at all, but at the end he curled around her and they slept. In the morning Priss woke up alone and cold the smell of ozone and sex heavy in the air.


	21. Interlude

She saw Mike for a month and a half more, then he stopped texting or calling her. She tried not to feel bad, after all, they only ever slept together and he never once removed his shirt. His loss really. There was a new nurse on the ward, from Manchester, she was short with curly ash blonde hair. Her name was Ingrid Johnson and she looked at Priss with such longing in her eyes. Priss didn’t need this, her work and her personal life were not something she mixed, well not like this. She didn’t need Nurse Johnson mooning around her, trying to strike up conversation. She hardly ever felt Elias looking out of her eyes now, or heard from any of them. One night she was on shift with Ingrid, it was slow most the patients were asleep. She was doing crosswords from a puzzle book and Nurse Johnson was doing the nightly check up.

She couldn’t figure out twelve down, it was a real problem. It shared letters with two different words but was ten letters long, and the clue was ‘debutante ball Mexican style.’

“Everything alright, Priscilla?” Priss nearly jumped out of her skin, it was just Ingrid.

“You gave me a start, everything good with the patients?”

“Yeah, all fast asleep. It’s just you were looking at that crossword like it short changed ya.”

“Hmmmph,” Priss sighed. “I don’t get this word.”

“Oh let me see, I helped me Nan with the crosswords,” Ingrid said.

Priss shrugged, she was bored and a little frustrated, so why not? “Sure give it a go.”

Ingrid stared at the clue, squinting, her tongue poked out as she thought. “Oh! I got it, it’s quinceanera!”

“It’s what?” Priss asked.

“ Yeah, Q-U-I-N-C-“ She noticed Priss’s look of confusion. ” Oh I’ll look it up on me phone!” Ingrid said

Ingrid whipped out her phone. “Last girlfriend had family in Mexico so…” She explained as typed.

She flipped it over so Priss could see the screen. Yes, there was the word, very strange to her but the description was apparently accurate.

“Thanks, I never would have guessed,” she said.

Ingrid smiled brightly and looked away. “If you need any more help, I’m right here.”

“Alright,” Priss grinned, there was something soothing about Ingrid, something that made her feel warm and happy, like a puppy.

She was good help, quick with her words and accurate with her spelling. The rest of the long night passed easily in her company. Priss found herself looking forward to the shifts she shared with Nurse Johnson. Ingrid talked a lot about herself, her family, her past, her interests. It was easy to listen as it all spilled out over the next couple of weeks. Priss didn’t reveal much of herself, other than a recent relationship that had gone bust and that she lived in her dead mother’s house which she inherited. There was no reason to say more really, the way Ingrid looked at her with those big bright eyes and contented smile was enough to let her think what she wanted.

Lately the bungalow was feeling very empty, no one texted, no one called and coming back to a cold, dark house after a long shift made her feel even worse. The exciting shadow world she’d caught a glimpse of, she’d been allowed in, had left her behind. Sometimes she counted herself lucky for that, but mostly she felt abandoned. Ingrid’s smile helped. At least someone, even though they were quite ordinary, made it better, made her feel special.

At the end of a shift Ingrid was looking at Priss with those big yearning eyes.

“Hey Priss I was wondering if you wanted to go for drinks next Thursday?”

Priss considered it, she didn’t exactly fancy Ingrid, there was just nothing particularly attractive about her to Priss, but she did make her feel comforted and it might not be a bad thing having a person to have a drink or two with.

“Sure.”

Ingrid smiled from ear to ear and closed her eyes happily for a second or two, like a pleased cat. Ingrid picked the place, a gay bar that wasn’t Priss’s usual scene but she didn’t really care, they talked as they drank, mostly gossiping about co-workers and talking about superficial things.

“You’re so pretty,” Ingrid said.

She smiled at Ingrid. “Aww thanks. I haven’t heard that much lately.”

They flirted more and Ingrid took her hand, she had nice warm and soft hands. Priss looked deeply into the other woman’s blue eyes, there was comfort there, there was safety, and there was someone who’d keep away the lonely nights. Maybe it wouldn’t be a grand passion, but Priss wasn’t getting younger and this would do, for now, maybe forever. She leaned over and kissed Ingrid. The other woman’s lips were soft and warm, she tasted like her vanilla chapstick. Ingrid kissed her again enthusiastically, Priss returned it and thought, “She’ll do, she doesn’t ask questions, she’s warm, soft and she’s head over heels for me.”

~~~~~2007- 2008~~~~

Ingrid had moved in two months after their first date. Things were good, they treated each other well, the sex was decent, the company was enjoyable and Priss considered herself mostly content. A year and half of soft monotony went by when one morning Priss felt a flicker of him in the shower. He was looking through her, it wasn’t much, but he had been looking. From outside the shower her phone vibrated on the counter near the sink. She stumbled, turning off the shower and drying herself off. There was a text from Elias and her heart leapt at the name. It was the name, birthdate, and description of a patient that apparently had come in last night with the enigmatic tag, ’see to it’. She immediately knew that he wanted the person dead. It was a night shift, luckily Ingrid had taken a position with another hospital shortly after they moved in together. She had to pick the right time and make sure the cameras couldn’t see. Priss adjusted the medication, it would look like the patient died in their sleep. As she did so, she felt HIM inside of her, looking out, watching and seeing.

It was too much.

Her heart thumped in her chest and she could feel her pulse in her groin. Then he was gone like a ghost and suddenly she felt so empty and so very alone. She barely held it together for the walk to the restroom. She closed the stall door behind her and started crying messily, wet sobs as she sank to her knees. He wasn’t there, he’d gone again. Of course, she wasn’t interesting now with her dull little life…. but she’d done what he wanted and maybe, if she kept at it, he’d deign to look through her again. 

It was another year after that, while she was on her morning shift, when she felt him again looking out for a moment and she stopped immediately in her tracks as her phone vibrated. Another name, birthdate and description of a patient who’s come in after her shift with the tag, “take care of it” She grinned, he still needed her. There was a tiny sliver of hope there growing inside her, at least she could be useful to him. 

Ingrid was sipping her morning tea when Priss came back home.

“You alright dear?” She asked, glancing up briefly. 

“Yeah I’m fine, why?”

“You look like you saw a ghost,” Ingrid replied.

Priss smiled, “an old friend got in touch, I was bit taken aback, that’s all.”

She walked up to Ingrid and kissed her lightly.

“Alright, dear,” Ingrid smiled and went back to sipping her tea.

The problem patient was rocking and sucking at their fingers when Priss came back that afternoon. They had a deeply scared, haggard look about them, so weak and frail in their hospital gown. She could feel him inside of her, curling her lips with a smile as she stared at the patient. Her blood pumped faster and she felt a warmth spreading from her core, like she’d had a shot of whisky. Yes, he was here and he knew her hand was as steady as her devotion. It was easy enough to persuade the other nurse that she should distribute the meds today. Priss was considered steady, reliable and always happy to help. It was easier still to change a few of the pills when she knew the camera wasn’t watching. The problem patient looked at her when she handed them the little white cup with the meds. There was such trust and acceptance there as they took the cup and swallowed the pills without question. It sent a thrill through her veins, a thrill that he shared. She turned her head to hide the grin that wasn’t just hers. There was panic in about half an hour when they found the still warm body of the patient that had caused Elias so much trouble, dead in their room. Oh,  _ HE  _ loved that, she could feel  _ him _ rejoice in it. He lingered long enough inside to watch them wheel out the body bag. He inserted the information into her head, that this person had no close family or friends, no one who’d care about their fate or have them exhumed or examined. That was good of him, to give her comfort like that. Then of course he was gone and she felt low, though not as bad as before and she hid her despondency with an impassive face as she turned to her phone. No one noticed and, in the aftermath, no one cared.

Ingrid was making dinner when she returned home and the curve of the other woman’s hip, made her remember how it felt with him inside of her. Alive, excited, desired. Priss walked up Ingrid and pinched her arse.

“Oooh!” Ingrid jumped, she turned and smiled. “What’s gotten into you dear?”

“Hopefully, you with the strap,” Priss said with a grin and covered Ingrid with kisses.

“But I’m making cauliflower cheese,” Ingrid said in half-hearted fashion.

“Take it off the stove, it can wait,” Priss said and kissed Ingrid again.

“Yeah,” Ingrid agreed and moved the pan as well as she could with her girlfriend hanging off her and smothering her in affection.

Priss was already halfway to the bedroom and mostly naked by the time Ingrid caught up with her. They fucked good and hard, and Priss came twice, thinking of Elias and only him, rather than the woman in her arms. 


	22. back again

**Chapter 21**

~~~ April 2009~~~~

She could feel him looking out of her for months, just flickers and glimpses nothing as long as twenty minutes. Things had changed, he was bored with Peter or maybe Peter was at sea. She didn’t know but she felt him looking at her naked body in the shower or the mirror when she dressed. He was interested again, but hadn’t made any direct moves as of yet. Most of Ingrid’s hobbies were pretty dull and domestic, Priss hardly listened when she talked. She liked the soft curves of Ingrid more than her conversation. One thing Ingrid enjoyed that she dragged Priss into was going to art museums. Priss didn’t mind the art, but didn’t care much for the walking. It was early May, when Ingrid was rabbiting on about where they should go next, Priss noticed the eyes on a print they owned move in her direction and that’s why she suggested the Tate.

“Oh I’ve been meaning to go back,” Ingrid said. “That’s in Chelsea right near where you work?”

“Yeah,” Priss said and smiled.

There was no indication, no feeling of Elias inside of her, no phone call after Ingrid went to work, no text message, nothing for most of the week. Maybe he wouldn’t be there. It was Saturday morning, she’d showered, and was just about to put on lotion when with a start she felt Elias looking through her at the reflection in the bathroom mirror, she smiled and took a step back so he could see everything as she put on her lotion. The maybe had turned into a near certainty. She toweled off and began looking through the closet for that blue dress he liked. She found it and wiggled into it.

“Is that new?” Ingrid asked as she got dressed herself.

“No, I just haven’t felt like wearing it lately,” Priss responded.

Three years to be exact.

The museum’s entrance was louder and more crowded than Priss would have liked, if he was there she couldn’t see him or feel him now. They meandered through the route of the gallery, and Priss began to feel the eyes of a hundred portraits on her all were him. Yes, he was somewhere in this maze of rooms. Ingrid was taking a while stopping to look at every single painting, sculpture, objet d'art and read about it. She was getting impatient, but Priss knew you couldn’t run through a gallery. She could feel that he certainly wasn’t impatient at all. After all he was looking at her with painted eyes of every person and animal in the room. She felt so seen, she felt known, and the thrill of it traveled down her spine, as she stretched and strutted. The crowd was thinning out as they entered a gallery of British artists from the 1810s.

“Oh it says here they have some Lawerences’ on loan from a private collection,” Ingrid said. “Sketches and the like.”

Priss nodded, there was just one other person in this room. Elias Bouchard was wearing a navy blue, tailored, three piece suit, calmly sitting on a bench in front of a rather large portrait. He turned his head, he smirked seeing Priss and Ingrid. His eyes glittered.

Priss felt her pulse quicken and breath catch, three years and he’d hardly changed at all, she felt her smile widen.

“Ah, Priss,” He said as they approached.

“Elias, fancy meeting you here,” She replied a smirk.

“You know each other?” Ingrid said looking from one to the other.

“Yes. Ingrid, this is my good friend Elias Bouchard,” Priss said. “Elias is my girlfriend Ingrid Johnson.”

“How nice to meet you,” He said standing up and offering his hand to Ingrid.

Ingrid stared at him and his hand and squeaked: “Nice to meet you too.”

She didn’t take his hand, he withdrew it, with a grin.

“I didn’t know you of all people went to museums,” Priss said archly.

“Hmmm Priss, you see I recently lent the Tate a few paintings from the Magnus institute,” he said, then seeing her shocked look amended: “Nothing from artefact storage just some paintings from our founder’s personal collection.”

That's when Priss looked at the painting, it was a young Jonah Magnus, painted in a navy blue suit, he was leaning over a desk quill in hand looking at the viewer intently, his eyes light and lovely a smirk on his lips, there was an owl perched in the shadows of the painting it’s eyes the same shade as his. She realized it usually hung in the lobby of the Magnus institute, that she’d passed by that same painting for a decade never really looking at it. She looked over at Elias, his expression mirrored the painting exactly. It was accompanied by several other small framed sketches for the portrait, Ingrid was poring over them. 

“I have to say that Jonah Magnus was certainly a handsome man,” Priss said looking over at Elias.

“Really? I think he looks right creepy,” Ingrid said, staring at the painting. “His eyes just bore right into me.”

“He did have quite the penetrating gaze,” Elias said smiling back at Priss “It’s amazing how the artist captured that.”

“Huh, says in the brochure that Sir Thomas Lawrence had nightmares for months after doing this painting,” Ingrid said. “I don’t blame him.”

He smiled wider and sharper at Priss, she returned it.

“So this is what you’ve been up to lately?” He said as they meandered through the next gallery.

Ingrid was a few feet in front of them looking at a small collection of landscapes. 

“You know, I couldn’t just sit on the shelf, waiting around,” Priss replied.

“Mmmmm, yes,” he nodded. “How’s the patio, do you think it needs an expansion?”

“No,” Priss said. “I don’t think it does not just yet.”

Ingrid was a few paces ahead looking at a Rossetti.

He looked at Ingrid, raised an eyebrow and looked back at Priss.

“Come now Priss,” He said.

“Well, if I wasn’t so alone, I might consider it. But we like the patio as it is, she puts her herb boxes there,” She said, trying to seem unaffected. 

“Very domestic,” He said sarcastically.

“Yeah it is,” Priss said.

“Are you coming?” Ingrid said in a stage whisper.

“Yes, sorry, just catching up with Elias,” Priss said.

They walked on stopping in front of the Rossetti, in it a woman in blue clutched a pomegranate. Priss thought it was beautiful.

“I know you Priss,” He said as they looked at the painting.

“Yes you do,” She admitted. “But you’ve been busy right? You haven’t been watching.”

“Well, I do have an Institute to run and all that it entails,” He sighed. “Some of my employees need a bit more managing than others.”

She shrugged in agreement, “and Peter?”

“Yes, Peter has been…on his boat,” Elias said.

“That explains it,” Priss said with a smile.

He looked over at her slyly, appraising her body. “You’ve been keeping well, hardly changed in three years.”

“I could say the same for you, you look as good as you always have.” She said looking back at him.

She moved closer to him, she could smell him: cologne and cigarettes.

There was the sound of footfalls approaching and she took a step back. Ingrid rounded the corner, “C’mon you two, I almost lost you.”

Then she turned and walked back the way she came.

Priss giggled and Elias rolled his eyes, smiling as they walked on, keeping a few paces behind Ingrid.

They continued flirting, whispering just quiet enough so that Ingrid didn’t hear, once just once they let their fingers slip and touch for a moment or two, and Priss felt her heart ache in her chest. He quickly withdrew his hand and smirked at her. He knew, oh he knew, of course he did.

They parted ways once they came to the end of the museum exhibit.

“I have to be going,” He said. “It was …nice catching up with you Priss, and very nice to meet you as well, Ingrid.”

“Bye,” Priss said cheerfully as he left.

Ingrid gave a visible shudder once she thought he couldn’t see her. “Oh I didn’t care for him at all, Priss.”

“What’s wrong with Elias?” Priss asked, a look of puzzlement on her face.

Ingrid shuddered again, “He’s creepy, the way he just stares and smiles. I don’t like him, not at all.”

“Oh,” Priss felt a bit dejected, “I always thought he was rather charming.”

“He’s creepy is what he is, and I think he’s way too into you,” Ingrid explained, “He was looking at you like a hungry dog looks at a pork chop.”

Priss laughed at that, secretly a little pleased, “Oh, really? I don’t think so.”

“If he’s just your friend fine,” Ingrid said. “Just don’t include me next time you two meet up.”

“Don’t worry,” Priss said. “I won’t.”

~~~

In the following days she knew he was watching. Every time she was undressed, in the bath or in the shower, she teased him, posing and playing with herself. The lust, the hunger, from him felt hot and impatient, yet he didn’t text, didn’t call, he just watched.

It was a strange week. Her shifts were all in the morning and with Ingrid having evening shifts, they barely saw each other. She didn’t even have a weekend free this week. It was Wednesday evening, she’d taken a bath, dried herself and felt him watching through the bathroom mirror. More of the same, really. She knew about this time he’d be finishing up work for the day. She shrugged, Ingrid was on her shift until after midnight, so Priss put on a robe, poured herself some wine and turned on the telly. She felt a flicker of annoyance from him. Well he would just have to deal with it, this would be like every other time he did this, just looking at her to get off. She drew her robe up, he could deal with it himself, there were plenty of other willing people in London. So, she drank her wine and watched some mindless reality show with no real interest.

Her phone buzzed, she picked it up, glanced at it and startled:

  
  


❤️EB❤️

I’m at the door

The doorbell rang.

  
  


She leapt from the couch, closing her robe and putting the wine to one side. She unlocked the door and he was standing there, smiling.

“Hello, Priss,” he said. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, it has.” She looking him over hungrily.

“May I come in?’ He said, his eyes glimmering with interest. 

She swiftly agreed, letting him in and hoping none of the neighbours saw as she closed it behind him.

As soon as it shut he dropped his briefcase and closed the distance between them. They lunged for each other, kissing in a heated frenzy as he undressed and she slipped off her robe. They made it as far as the couch, hands touching everywhere. He kissed lines over her collar bone and breasts. He was on her and he entered her with a moan, her legs wrapped around his waist. 

He’d found the right spot inside her and was thrusting at it as she ground into him and dug her fingers into his sides. He kept going and he kept going fast, hard, shaking the couch. The sensation was sweet and intense, crashing over and through her non-stop as she matched his pace and squeezed down tighter. He was staring into her, those intense eyes looking into her soul. She called and cried out, her mouth dumb with meaningless nosies as he kept going. She called out his name, his real name. He drove it home and Priss felt the fury, the hunger, the pleasure that had been building inside her explode outward to every nerve and every pore. She screamed as she came and he just kept going. More and more until she was shaking, until the world swam. Just before everything went dark, she heard him shout as he came. 

He was still inside her when she woke up, holding her, smiling down at her, heavy-lidded and satisfied.

“…I needed that,” he sighed.

“You’re welcome luv,” She murmured into his hair. 

He leant down and kissed her a few times, then buried his face in her chest as she laughed, their hearts still racing. They showered together, it was as if no time had passed as they touched and kissed. That lead to another bout of sex in the shower and a quick one after midnight. She watched from her bedroom door, smoking a cigarette as he gathered his clothes and dressed.

“We should do this again, I believe you are free...” He said pausing and letting the information come to him. “Next Tuesday evening?”

“Yeah, that’s right, see you then?” She asked.

“Of course,” He said.

They kissed goodbye lightly once he had finished dressing, Priss watching from the doorway as he left. Priss was fast asleep when Ingrid came home less than an hour later. 


	23. Betrayal

~~~~~September 2009~~~~

Priss wondered if Ingrid knew, if she suspected anything had changed.

“She has no idea,” Elias said casually.

It was Wednesday afternoon, after a ‘lunch date’ and Priss was getting herself clean and pulling up her scrub bottoms.

“What?” Priss startled.

“You were practically telegraphing it, darling,” He added, “Ingrid has no idea what you’ve been up to, she’s been occupied with her own mundane thoughts and concerns.”

He’d already zipped, buckled, straightened himself, and he was already working on a spreadsheet on his computer.

“Nice to know,” Priss nodded.

“Quite,” he agreed, “Kiss, before you leave?”

“Of course, luv,” She agreed with a slight grin.

She walked over and they kissed lightly. He noticed the crease in her brow.

“If you are worried about Gertrude telling her, she’s off on business, trying to stop a ritual of The Spiral. She doesn’t have the time to interfere,” He said with a smile.

Priss returned the smile gratefully, “Huh, that’s a relief.”

He hummed his agreement, turning back to the screen of his computer.

It felt so good to be back in his arms, to have his attention, however now there was a charade keep up. Perhaps, she could murder Ingrid? However Ingrid had so many people around her, people who would come looking if she disappeared. She had family in Manchester, she talked to her mum constantly for example, and she had friends in London; the gaggle of co-workers at her new job who she went out with, the others from her hobby groups who she talked with.

Maybe she could just get real cold, become mean and distant, let Ingrid dump her. Sadly the woman was too dense for those signals, they just seemed to bounce off her. They didn’t have sex much any more but Ingrid didn’t even seem to care, she was to tired most of the time, and when she wasn’t a gentle rebuffing and distracting her with something else was all it took.

  
  


~~~~September 20th~~~~~~

It was a Friday night, Ingrid was heading off with her nurse buddies for a night out, apparently it was karaoke night at one of their usual spots. Priss and Elias had been texting, making plans for when she left. He knew, of course he knew, that Ingrid would be gone ‘till well after midnight. 

Her friends’ arrived to pick her up and Ingrid bade Priss farewell with a soft smile.  
“Good bye, dear, I love you.” 

Priss looked up and nodded, watching as Ingrid left. She was off with her friends, singing and drinking, when she came home much much later she’d be ratarsed, and wouldn’t notice if anything was out of place.

It was ten minutes later that he arrived, Priss answered the door wearing white thigh high stockings and a smile. Soon they were in the bedroom, naked, kissing and fucking in the dim light. He was on top of her, her legs wrapped around his waist, thoroughly enjoying themselves. Neither of them heard the creak of the bedroom door, then the light clicked on and they both heard Ingrid gasp. 

They sprang apart.

Priss pulled the sheet over her naked body and Elias found an errant pillow to hold over his groin.

“Luv, what are you doing here?” Priss asked,

“I-I- forgot my wallet…” Ingrid stumbled.

“Oh,” Priss said. “I didn’t want you to…”

“How could you?!” Ingrid shouted. “And with that cunt!?”

“You don’t understand…” Priss whined.

“Oh I suppose you both happen to be on some greco-roman wrestling team and were practicing!” Ingrid continued and marched over. “IN OUR BED TOO! Do you ever clean the sheets in between!” Then she began to sob.

“I-I LOVED YOU! YOU… You… utter bitch!”

“If I may interject,” Elias said, he was calm and smiling.

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say creep,” Ingrid steamed.

“No you do,” Elias said, his eyes glimmering. “Have you looked at ‘your’ Priscilla? Really looked? Or did you just blindly accept every lie and half-truth she fed you. Painting pictures of the person you think she is, based on so little information. She doesn’t love you, she never did, you were just a bed warmer for her. You stand in her mother’s house do you know how her late mother died—?”

“You always said it was cancer….” Ingrid said, looking imploringly at Priss.

“—Partly,” Elias smirked.

Then Ingrid’s eyes widened, her mouth opened and her expression changed to abject fear as she looked over at Priss, as the knowledge fell into her head.

“Elias are you sure this is a good idea?” Priss began, taking his arm.

“This damp little mouse isn’t going to tell a soul,” Elias said, “You didn’t probe much when she mentioned her previous marriages, did you? You don’t even know who’s grave you’ve walked over.”

As more of the truth fell into her mind, Ingrid’s expression changed a hair, there was now repulsion in her eyes as well as horror, and it was as if for the first time Ingrid really saw her.

“You… you’re a monster, Priss…” Ingrid said, tears pooling in her eyes.

“Your cab is waiting, Miss Johnson, I suggest you take it.” Elias said, eyes glimmering.

Ingrid ran out the room, wallet still clutched in her hand.

The door slammed and Elias turned to Priss with a raised brow.

“She’s gone,” Priss said a tinge of regret in her voice.

“Oh don’t pretend you cared about her,” Elias said. “Or that you aren’t as turned on as I am right now.”

She was, she looked over him, he smiled ravenously, and his cock was jutting fully, painfully erect from between his legs.

“The safeword is kiwi,” She said mildly.

“Excellent!” He said putting his hands around her neck and mounting her.

He took her hard and fast, over and over again, she’d never come so many times or so hard. The bed broke at one point and in their frenzy they ended up continuing on the floor. In the bathroom, on the couch, in the kitchen, they fucked in every room of the house. He took her in every hole she had. They ended up sore, bruised, scratched and bitten on the floor, under a duvet dragged off of the bed, exhausted in each other’s arms.

~~~~~~~

Ingrid came back a week later with her family to pack her stuff in a moving truck. Her family was scowling and silent and Ingrid wouldn’t meet Priss’s eyes the entire time.


	24. Freyr Leon and the door.

**Chapter 23**

~~~~~~~March 2010~~~~~

Priss sighed upon hearing the loud buzzing and frantic shouting drifting down the ward’s hall. It was the middle of the night, but this new patient, Freyr Leon, was at it again. The horrible little freak just seemed to be addicted to attention. Priss got up, shaking her head, took her time walking down the hall to his room.

“What’s the trouble, now Freyr?” She asked, looking down at him in the bed clicking her tongue in an irritated way.

  
  


“The door! It came back! I told ya it’s following me!” Freyr shouted, pointing at the far wall, which was as blank as it always had been.

“Do you think we need to up your dosage, Freyr?” She sighed, “It's the middle of the night, there is no door there.” 

“It was there a minute ago, it left when you came in! It knows Nurse Abbott,” He said. “And yeah maybe you do…if I’m still seeing it, thinking like this… but I swear it’s the door was there.”

“You need to sleep, Freyr,” She said, shaking her head.

“I guess,” He grumbled, still staring at the wall.

He settled back down into the bed, lying back and pulling the blanket to his chin.

“Good night Freyr.” She said as she left the room and headed back to the desk. 

She’d seen Freyr Leon’s file: he’d been homeless for a decade or so, he had a history of mental illness, problems with booze, problems with drugs, and a bit of a criminal record for minor things. The file also showed he tended to admit himself to mental wards when the weather was bad, the prick.

Three days later, in broad daylight this time, Freyr Leon was walking in the hallway to the dayroom and she could hear him begin to just shriek. Sighing, she got up from the desk and walked out into the hallway.

“THE DOOR! THE DOOR WAS THERE!” He yelled pointing at an empty stretch of wall.

“Look there is nothing there luv,” Priss said. “Breathe”

He did, taking several shaking breaths, his eyes were still wide, as he gulped air like a dying fish.

That’s when she felt Elias looking through her, at Freyr Leon, the madman’s raw terror acting as a beacon.

“It does this, the door, it disappears when someone shows up,” He protested. “It was behind me, going away every time I looked directly at it, kept taunting me…”

“A door is taunting you? Alright dear,” Priss sighed, shaking her head. “I know it’s rough but we upped the dosage, it’ll take some time to work properly.”

“Right yeah,” He was calmer now. “I guess, I just need to get better.”

Elias was still watching him, curious and eager.

“That’s it love,” She said. “I think Blackadder is on in the dayroom, you like that right?”

“Yeah…” He smiled.

She walked him down the hallway, the dayroom had three patients in it and two other nurses. They gave her a pitying look when she entered with Freyr Leon. She shrugged as he settled into a seat watching the telly.

Back at the front desk her phone buzzed.

❤️EB❤️

Watch that man, the spiral is hunting him

I want to see what happens. 😉

  
  


She texted back:

Yes, got it luv.

I will.

See you Wednesday?

  
  


❤️EB❤️

Of course.

The usual time.

😉

~~~~

After their usual lunch time activities were over, she’d gotten off her knees, dusting them off and stretching, and he was watching her, already zipped up and buckled.

“Water?” He offered smirking.

“Yes, thanks,” She smiled back. “Asparagus is in season, after all.”

He walked over to a clear glass carafe on the left hand table where there was a tray with glass cups ice bobbed in water in the carafe. He poured her a glass, he handed it to her with a raised eyebrow and watched her throat as she drank it, that smirk returning to his lips.

She finished the water, smiled back in a cheeky way.

“I assume you know something about the Spiral?” He said.

“Well Salesa told me a bit, so did you, it messes with your head right?” She replied.

“Yes, I want to see it take a victim, statements can only go so far,” He remarked, his eyes glittering.

“Right, I’ll do my best,” She said.

“Do be careful Priss darling, it’s ritual failed and it’s desperate,” He warned.

Elias was back at his desk, his eyes turning back to a spreadsheet. He didn’t look up to see her blush.

“No need to worry luv, it won’t eat me,” She said.

He looked back at her and smiled. “I trust you wouldn’t let it.”

She stretched as she got up and muttered a brief farewell as she began to leave.

“No kiss, Priss?” He asked.

“Oh sorry dear,” She turned back to him, crossed the room and gave him a peck on the lips.

He hummed, satisfied, and went back to his spreadsheet.

~~~~~~~

The next week was a bust, Freyr Leon didn’t have any incidents around her and she suspected that the medication was keeping him quiet. She kept watching him and saw his head or eyes often turned to the empty walls of the ward. So it was happening, but not around her.

It was two in the morning and she was sitting, idly playing a game on her phone when she heard the call button from Freyr's room buzz, what’s more, she could feel Elias looking out from inside her . He’d been up, waiting too. She silently glided down the hallway and carefully opened the door. That’s when she saw it.

The yellow door on the far wall, where no door should be. Freyr was staring at it with such palpable dread and terror in his face. The door knob rattled, Freyr turned away, hiding his eyes but the door was still there when he looked up. She watched as he got up from his bed and moved haltingly towards the door as if drawn by some unseeable force. She was grinning from ear to ear, Elias’s joy filled her head as they both watched in curious glee. Freyr was inching towards the door, he put his hand on the shaking handle and it swung open. 

A figure stepped out, they were bent double but straightened up outside the door. The figure stood seven feet tall at least and was so incredibly thin. It’s long blond curly hair billowing and falling around its face, there seemed to be a suggestion of waves and swirls that never seemed to come to an end. It’s hands were huge, with long, sharp fingers. Priss did nothing but stand there and watch as those dreadful hands snatched up Freyr Leon and dragged him into the door. Priss had never seen anything so amazing, anyone so heart-achingly beautiful and horrifying, she felt tears running down her cheeks. She must have squeaked because the figure looked directly at her with mismatched eyes, smiled wickedly, and put one long finger to it’s lips in a sly shushing gesture. The door closed, it vanished along with Freyr Leon.

In the pre-dawn she forged Freyr’s discharge papers, Elias was gone, no longer watching.

She swore she saw a yellow door on the far wall, but when she looked back it was gone.


	25. Here comes the distortion.

The yellow door was following her now, she knew that. She only ever saw it in the corner of her eye, a momentary flash of yellow; if she looked directly at it, it would disappear. The Distortion was trying to drive her mad, she decided. It was sweet in a way, that it thought she’d be scared or that a little bit of harmless stalking could do that to her. It was more annoying than anything. Hard to get anything done with a yellow door playing peek-a-boo with you. She knew that if she really wanted to, she could get rid of the door. The problem was that she didn’t exactly want to. She wanted to see that figure again, to look into their mis-matched eyes and she couldn’t help but wonder what they’d taste like when she kissed them. There was something oddly familiar about them, something she couldn’t put her finger on, but she knew she fancied them.

Logically, she knew it wasn’t really there, or was it? It could be, always lurking just out of direct eye sight, vanishing as she turned to look at it properly. It hadn’t opened yet, no one had stepped out.    
  
_ Was she the prey? Was it toying with her, trying to weaken her?  _ _   
_ The thought kept rolling around in her brain and it was slowly gnawing away at her sanity. Elias was busy and she wouldn’t be seeing him for another two weeks. Internal projects at the Magnus Institute had taken his attention, as they often did, and Peter was back on shore. So, for her own sanity if nothing else, she decided to view this as flirtation. Yes, The Distortion was just flirting with her. The idea comforted her when she was taking out the trash late at night and the door appeared on the back wall of a neighbor’s house, the handle turning and rattling violently as she passed by. Yes this couldn’t get to her, she was safe, she’d dealt with all sorts and it hadn’t even touched her. The fear that crept through her veins, felt deliciously fresh and invigorating. Afterward alone in her room, she played with herself, hoping the door would show up.

_ Was she the prey? Was it toying with her, trying to weaken her? _

The thought came again in the morning as the door seemed to follow her on her rounds. She couldn’t tell anyone. Her powerful lovers would do nothing, seeing this as a test or a meal for them. She never told her co-workers anything about her personal life. As for her patients, she was sure a few of them saw it too. But they didn’t do anything but look at her with wide, anxious eyes. 

_ Was she the prey? Was it toying with her, trying to weaken her? _

No she couldn’t be prey, she wouldn’t let herself be prey, the door wasn’t there. This was just an illusion, the Spiral trying to get to her. Well it picked the wrong woman to mess with. She’d slept with scarier things. Though she couldn’t help but think that even if it did eat her, at least she was food for something. Giving herself to something greater than herself. More lies she told to calm her nerves. She liked fear, the sharp jolt in her stomach when one of her lovers scared her, but this constant, looming dread wasn’t what she liked at all.

_ Was she the prey? Was it toying with her, trying to weaken her? _

Elias still hadn’t called her or texted her, he wasn’t bothering to watch her or watch through her. She missed him. He was busy, he was always busy. There were plans that were formed before she was born, and he needed to work on them. There was running the Institute as well, day to day managerial business. God forbid she separate him from his beloved spreadsheets. There was Peter, who was back from sea and they were married after all, weren’t they? She was sure he’d mentioned that they recently got a divorce or were considering divorce? He ran hot and needed sex at least once a week. Well she supposed he was seeing to that need with Peter. Simon was, well, not reliable. He’d breeze in whenever he felt like it but hadn’t in years, she missed him sometimes, but she knew he didn’t actually care about her. She heard about a Harriet Fairchild maybe….?

_ Was she the prey? Was it toying with her, trying to weaken her? _

She thought that, yet again, when after getting home late one night, she looked up and the yellow door was right there in front of her, BRIGHT and GARISH. She screamed, she actually screamed. Then with a blink, it was gone. Fuck, she couldn’t take this for much longer. Maybe it was all in her head and her eyes were lying. Maybe she was so desperate to feel anything, she had invented it. She could get some pills from work, write a prescription for herself. Then it would vanish and she’d be alright. However… What if it was actually there, and The Distortion was after her. Pills would do no good then.

_ Was she the prey? Was it toying with her, trying to weaken her? _

She was letting this get to her. The door seemed to be everywhere, all the time. It was getting harder and harder to ignore. She was going spare and she hated it. What she hated more was that she hadn’t seen the figure at all, just that door, threatening her, mocking her.

It was late, in the depths of the night and she had woken up from a bad dream to find the door on the wall. She was sick of this. She got up.

“Why do you keep doing this? Show up and not do anything. What are you so scared of? You’re a coward is what you are!” She yelled

That’s when the door handle began to turn slowly and carefully and the door began to open.

“Huh, you think that’ll do anything, you aren’t coming out are you?” She scoffed.

The door opened and the figure stepped out, it’s long yellow hair billowed in a non-existent breeze, it’s mismatched eyes were wide and it smiled at her with too many teeth. And it was beautiful, it was terrible and Priss was terrified but more than that, the blood thundering in her ears and in her groin, told her she was aroused.

It laughed, a strange tittering, recursive giggle that was oddly familiar.

“You called my bluff Priscilla. Are you happy, is this what you wanted?” It’s lilting voice was high and it finally clicked where she had seen it before.

“Micheal Shelley?” She asked. “Is that you?”

“Yes, and no, I am Him, but He is not me” It said with a laugh.

She had to act, the blood pounding in her veins the fear and arousal told her to act maybe she’d die because of it. She smiled up at the figure.

“Whoever you are, you look good, luv.” She said.

There was hesitation on Micheal’s face for a second. “Not a Who, a What now.”

“Well, you still look good,” She persisted and walked closer to Micheal. “You want to fuck?”

“What?” There was real confusion and hesitation on Micheal’s face, her blunt words catching them off guard.

“Well, you are very fit…” She said, stepping closer to them.

“..I…um… well…” the giggling was nervous now, whatever they were expecting this wasn’t it. There was doubt and yes a bit of desire in those eyes. “I’ll... have to think about it.”

And they hurriedly disappeared through their yellow door, it vanishing as well moments after.

So that was The Distortion then? Her gambit paid off, she guessed, she wasn’t sure if she’d see them again or if they’d take her up on her offer. She honestly hoped they would.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta reader Hisshex


End file.
